


In A Week

by Ash_Snow



Category: Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25355275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Snow/pseuds/Ash_Snow
Summary: Linden moves across the world to get a new start and overcomes obstacles of social anxiety. She was completely unaware of what was ahead or what would happen to her "In A Week".
Comments: 33
Kudos: 42





	1. New Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures out there! This is my first fanfic so I hope it's okay. My goal is to post one chapter a week but I can't make any promises. They also vary in length so I may be posting in clumps. hehe. This has a pretty complex plot so I will promise you there will be smut, but it's a process. 
> 
> Stay alive and beautiful my loves. <3

INTRODUCTION:

Do you ever feel like a completely different person on the inside than on the outside? Like you have all these things trapped inside yourself that can never be fully expressed?

I did.

  
I still do and that’s why I left.

  
At the age of twenty I moved from the Pacific Northwest to Bray, Ireland. I needed a change; to get out of what I was so comfortable with. I felt so familiar with where I was, that I felt lost and trapped. The people I knew didn’t really know me. I was so tired of seeing the same sights and same people that everything became so unfamiliar. It was like eating the same meal over and over until you can’t stand the look or smell of it.

  
I was originally going to choose Belfast, but I went for something quieter, considering I wanted something different from Portland’s constant buzzing. I also have a deep connection with the ocean. The soothing sound of waves crashing over each other leaves me at peace. But the untamed and raging beauty reminds me of how human and small I am in this world.

  
My family didn’t understand why I did what I did, but they were nonetheless supportive.

  
It excited me. There was no reason to hold me back from pursuing what was important to me; finding who I was.

  
Well… there was one thing. I was an extreme introvert. You know, the type of person who is perfectly content with being locked in their room with a window open, a cup of tea beside them, and a book or journal to keep them company.

  
This posed a problem. I was moving to a new country where I knew no one; I knew nothing of the country.

  
I had a stable plan though. I’d be working at the Goldsmiths Pub and live in a flat about half an hour away. The bus was my best mode of transportation.

  
I can’t say that I wasn't nervous about the change. It was a huge step in a direction I wasn't used to, but I was ready to take it all on.

_“ There’s an art to life’s distractions._  
_To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through._  
_Some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else. I guess any thrill would do. ”_

CHAPTER ONE:  
I had been living in my flat for two days. I didn’t have much to take with me from Oregon; just a couple suitcases of clothes, my duvet, my Macbook, some of my favorite books as well as some new ones, a journal, and the essential toiletries to last me until I could go to the shops.

  
After Facetiming with my family, I went over to my closet to pick out my clothing for the concert the next day. I remember not being able to sleep because I was nervous and excited. Nervous about going to a Hozier concert all by myself in a country I don’t know well, and excited because I was going to see Hozier live for the first time and I bought a VIP pass. This was a step of independence at it’s finest for me.

  
I packed a backpack with a book, a journal, my wallet, and a gift for the god of the forest himself.

  
Aussie Miracle Curl Cream.

  
I know it seems weird and out there, but I could just imagine how well his hair would look if he used it. If it looked so good now, then adding that product would make all the fangirls cream their jeans, just from the buoyancy it would give his curls.

  
I didn’t really consider myself a fangirl. Don’t get me wrong, I would sell my soul to have dinner with him, but I also have a healthy respect for him. I respect him too much to worship his every living breath, or act like a rabid beast at the sound of his voice. I appreciate him and how he makes it so clear that he is nothing but human.

  
As I climbed into my bed, which still felt foreign to me, I played the scenario of me meeting Hozier for the first time over in my head until I drifted off into a restless sleep.

  
<><><><><><><><>

  
The next morning was somewhat productive. I drank many cups of tea, spent quite a bit of time contemplating on whether or not I should write Hozier a letter of appreciation and decided to, just in case it felt like the right thing.

  
I didn’t know what to expect from a VIP meet and greet. It was my first. I decided to keep the letter short:

_Andrew Hozier-Byrne,_  
_I would like to say how much I find your music inspiring. You are one of two artists who has provided me with everything I love about music. It’s raw honesty, emotion and sound. It’s what takes me to my happy place and delivers me from my occasional debilitating social anxiety. You’re the type of person I aspire to be and I hope to be lucky enough to find someone like you to settle down with._  
_Stay classy and original you dear, beautiful creature._

_A supporter who’s name is of no importance_

After putting it in the envelope, I may have put a couple drops of my perfume on it before.

  
It wasn't with sensual intention. I just knew that scents can trigger memories and if he smells the perfume on me and the envelope, then perhaps he would remember me in the future. I knew that people like him see so many faces and that I’m easily forgettable, but I held onto the flicker of hope that maybe my face would stick in the back of his subconscious for a little longer.

  
After I placed the letter in between the pages of my journal, my parents Facetimed me and it lasted for a little longer than I had preferred. Once I said my goodbyes I rushed to take a quick shower, get dressed, do my hair and use some of my own Aussie Miracle Curl Cream and then do my makeup.

  
I decided to wear a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a Hozier t-shirt that I had acid washed with bleach. It was beautiful fall weather and I wasn't sure what to expect. I prepared like I would for Portland weather; I added a small umbrella to my backpack and a leather jacket to my outfit.

  
I was feeling pretty nervous at this point. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the environment I was about to place myself in, my lack of sleep, or the amount of caffeine I consumed in a couple hours. It was most likely all of them, and my anxiety wasn't doing me any favours.

  
My hands were a little shaky and my breathing felt restricted, but otherwise, I was ready to go to that concert and have the bloody time of my life.

  
<><><><><><><><>

  
Once I boarded the bus and sat in my seat, I put in my earbuds and felt somewhat secure and relaxed. My Hozier playlist seeped through my ears, flooding my head and flowing through my veins. My surroundings quieted, my overwhelming mind calmed, and my hands gently held each other.

  
I was in my happy place.

  
<><><><><><><><>

  
I ate lunch at Eddie Rockets and only had to walk a block and a half to the 3Arena. It was pretty easy to spot with its architecture. I also may have Googled what it looked like before I left because I didn’t know what it looked like. I didn’t want to ask an unassuming stranger where it might be and it ends up being right in front of me.

  
It’s a social anxiety thing.

  
There was a small line accumulating near one of the side doors. It was roped off and had a sign at the beginning of them that was labeled “Hozier VIP line starts here”. I quietly stepped behind the several people already there and they briefly glanced back. Giving them a small nod I unseemingly indicated to a taller and sturdy man that I was up for a chat (I don’t do well talking to strangers, especially when it has to be small talk).

  
“Halo der. Ez des yer ferst toime?” he said cheerfully. It took me a second to understand what he was saying. It could have been his Cork accent.

  
“Yes it is. How long have you lot been here?” I asked motioning my gaze towards his friends. His eyes widened a bit in hearing I wasn't from the Island.

  
“Oh, oid seyh bouht tree oors.” he smoothed his hand down his long, black beard.

  
I was shocked at how long they waited. We still had an hour of waiting to do before the VIP doors opened and it was only three in the afternoon.

  
Time drifted on and my anxiety somewhat settled. I would get lost in my thoughts as I rehearsed what I would say to Hozier. The pleasant man in front of me introduced himself as Gareth and would chat with me from time to time.

  
Eventually the side door opened and a short, burly man with short black hair waved us through the doorway. We were led into a lounge where we were treated to a free drink, and array of appetizer snacks. I just decided to get myself another cup of tea; Earl Grey with a bit of sugar and milk.

  
Once all fifteen of us were settled in a seat- it was a circular booth with space in the middle and an opening for entry and exit- and had either a snack or drink in hand, Hozier was brought out and he sat in the entrance; I ended up sitting nearest to him, being on the end.

  
He was much taller than I expected. I knew he was six/six, but damn! That’s a foot taller than myself. His hair was tied back at the moment and he was wearing a zip-up jumper. Somehow he looked stunningly handsome. One of his legs was propped up on his other knee and his hands kneaded the other in an introverted form of coping stimulus; I often did it too.

  
He surveyed the crowd and occasionally nodded, or winked at a superfan, sending her into a fainting spell or making her wale like a seal. It was quite entertaining and intriguing; the way he had with women, even some men. I could tell it was very unique.

  
He is, in my opinion, a very attractive man. But I also found him mysterious and anonymous, regardless of all the facts he’s given out to press and interviews. Like there’s still something about him he likes to hide from everyone.

  
It’s respectable and understandable. But as someone who likes to observe from the shadows or the corner of the room, I wanted to know it; to seek it out.

  
His eyes finally met mine and they did not move on. Instead, they remained.

  
Fixed, intense, green. As if he was trying to seek out something about me, yet they held a teasing expression. They made me feel safe and drawn closer to him.

  
To my surprise, he held his hand out to mine. I placed my hand in his and his long fingers wrapped around my hand, gave it a firm squeeze, two shakes and did not let go.  
I’m sure he could feel my hand shaking in his, regardless of my firm grip in return. His forehead softened and his eyes brightened.

  
“Hi. I’m Andrew.” He said in a hushed voice. As if only I could hear him. It was rich like honey but contained a small amount of rasp. My heart leapt and my breath silently caught in my throat. I wasn't sure how long I remained like that but he just waited patiently, never breaking eye contact.

  
He just nodded gently.

  
I caught my breath again, “Linden. It’s a pleasure to meet you Andrew,” I said and softly released my grip from his hand. For some reason his eyes dropped to our hand separating and his brow furrowed almost as if he started to get embarrassed rather than myself.

  
His hand that touched mine smoothed over his head and then met with his other hand to knead again. I put my hands in my lap and clasped them tightly, with the spaces between my index finger and thumb meeting together.

  
As I looked at the people around me, they had quizzical expressions on their face. The reason why, I didn’t know.

  
When I looked back at Andrew, he addressed us, “Thank you all for coming. There aren’t usually this few people when it comes to a concert located in this arena, ehm… but this was sort of a spontaneous plan in order to debut a new song of mine called Jackboot Jump. I only notified those who were subscribed to the email updates. Don’t get me wrong, I love having concerts that are sold out, but because of its spontaneity and short notice I ehm… I thought it would be nice to focus on a more semi-intimate experience between the band, artist, member of the public, or fan, etcetera. Ehm… and on your behalf, the VIP experience is admittedly not always all you could ask for. So I wanted to actually be able to take the time and sit down with some of you and have a sincere chat about anything ehm… and maybe have a laid back sing along, rather than just sign some things and take some pictures. I want to know your stories and learn about what’s important to my fans.”

  
He put his hands out gesturing to us.

  
I couldn’t help but notice his habitual fidgeting while he talked; the kneading of the hands, twisting the ring around on his finger, scratching his head regardless of if it itched or not, and shifting his weight in his seat from leaning forward, to leaning back.

  
He leaned back and propped his long leg up again and pointed to the man sitting next to him on his left, “Let’s start with your name, where you came from, what your favorite song from any of my albums is and why.”

  
I thought to myself how novel of Hozier to follow through with this. I also thought of how lucky I was for this experience, considering I paid a lot of money in my spontaneous decision and I could have ended up with less than this.

  
Andrew listened to each and every person intently, repeating their names after he heard them. Most of the song favorites were Work Song and Take Me To Church. There was a woman who said Cherry Wine, because it helped her get out of an abusive relationship; Andrew was moved by that.

  
When he got to the person next to me, I rehearsed what I wanted to say in my mind a couple times and took a deep breath, preparing myself to look into those celestial eyes again.

  
He turned to me and whispered my name to indicate my turn. I smiled and nodded at him. I looked around the circle as I spoke, “My name is Linden and I came from Wicklow.” I could see Andrew’s eyebrows draw together as he discerned my accent. I just chuckled a bit, “Yes I’m not originally from Wicklow. I actually just got settled in about a few days ago. I bought my VIP pass when I learned I would have just moved in by now.” I started to fidget with my fingers; intertwining them and pulling against their woven form. I began to feel everyone’s eyes on me and it made me feel slightly claustrophobic. Before I could feel anymore uncomfortable, Andrew intervened, “Where did you move from, might I ask?” he was running his fingers down from his cheek to the bottom of his jaw.

  
“Sure. I moved from Oregon in the United States. I was just tired of normal, I suppose.” I paused and surveyed the crowd. Andrew was listening just as intently to me like everyone previously and I figured I should go on with my favorite song, “About the song… I don’t really have favorites because I’m so fond of them all. But currently I’ve been drawn to “In a Week”. For me it represents welcoming change and coming to peace with it all. Because sometimes in life, when you step out of your comfort zone or disregard the opinions of other people, you can experience something of a metamorphosis and it could transform your life for the better.” I reached down to grab my tea and I wrapped my hands around the mug. Andrew nodded in response, “Mmm, exactly. I totally understand where you come from.”

  
I wasn't sure what to say in response so I just nodded and smiled.

  
Andrew clapped his hands and it startled me slightly. It was only noticeable if I was being looked at directly… maybe…

  
“So… I got to know a bit about you. Now what would you all like to know about me?” he said.

  
Some questions were funny and lighthearted, others were logical and some were notable. Two of which I would have never guessed could have been of importance. The questions were, “What’s your favorite drink?” and “Is there a special someone in your life?”. He answered those questions and there was a natural space to segway into the sing along.

  
Andrew pulled out his Takamine P3NY and I couldn’t help but smile. A few years back I saved for the same guitar after finding out that it was the one he used.

  
The tone and quality of it was one of the components that made me fall in love with his music.

  
I wasn't as skilled of a player as he, but I knew my way around many of his songs.

  
He began to take requests and he said that we would do most of the singing, seeing as he was trying to save his voice for the concert. We sang “Take Me To Church”, “Someone New”, and “NFWMB”.

  
While he played he kept looking at me as I sang along and his eyes were piercing through me. I couldn’t understand why. I knew I wasn't a bad singer, not because I was full of myself but because I had grown up in a musical family and had experience with plenty of singing.

  
While I sang along I sang some melody and harmony but it wasn't anything out of my comfort zone.

  
I brushed it off.

  
When we came to the last song, he plucked a few notes that I instantly recognized, sending electric pulses down my spine and through my arms. I looked directly at him to see him smirking at me and I returned the same piercing gaze.

  
“I think it would only be fair to properly welcome Miss Linden to Ireland by giving her the honour of singing her current favored song.” he winked at me and continued, “I only ask that you would just let her and I sing it, seeing as it is really only meant to be a duet.” That statement to me sounded a bit brash, but the rest of the members only cooed and awed. Those who had been live streaming or recording now pointed their phones at Andrew and I.

  
I began to shrink in my seat at being put on the spot and he noticed. He placed his hand on my leg and leaned closer to his ear, “Are you okay with this, Linden? I’m sorry I should’ve asked permission first. I just overheard you singing and thought how well this song would sound.”

  
His eyes held a concerned gaze and I began to feel comfortable in his presence.

  
“It’s okay, really. I’m just shocked that this is really happening.” I said in a slightly shaky voice.

  
“Right then. Let’s get lost in the moores shall we?” he patted his hand on my leg and began to pluck the intro to the song. As the members quieted down he noticed I was still looking a little sheepish despite my efforts to look otherwise.

  
“I would like to ask a lot of yees to put the camera’s away and just enjoy the music in the moment, please and thank you,” he smiled. The crowd complied, he gave a nod of gratitude to them, and then winked at me before beginning the first verse.

  
When it came to the second verse he smiled as I began to sing. I could hear some of the members gasp and see Gareth put his hand over his mouth. It made me nervous only until I could see that their faces wore huge smiles and others even a rogue tear or two. When we got to the pre-chorus it felt like pure light was coursing through my veins as I heard our tones receive each other well and intertwine.

  
This was my dream and it was coming true even beyond what I had expected. Not only to be right next to Andrew Hozier-Byrne, but to actually sing a duet with him. It was surreal to see his expressions up close and to hear his emotion through his voice.

  
As the song progressed I became more confident with myself and I got lost within the music. It was an experience that I knew I would only get once and I just wanted to stay in that moment forever.

  
When the song ended everyone applauded and cheered. I smiled and my face began to flush. I tend to have adverse reactions to any type of positive reactions towards me. I panic and say or do weird things. Getting embarrassed is only one of many examples.

  
Andrew grabbed my hand and leaned close to me.

  
“You were absolutely incredible.” he said.

  
I could feel his breath brush my neck and it made my skin ripple with warmth.

  
“I could say the same. This moment just made my entire life, so thank you… really,” I beamed.

  
My face grew more red as I noticed my other hand met with his and it was still there. “Oh sorry.” I said.

  
“It’s completely fine.” he winked.


	2. No "Regrats"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is now in the perspective of Andrew. There will be times that the perspective changes and I'll clarify in the summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures! I hope you are all doing well. I apologize for the late upload but I am gifting you with two chapters instead of one this week. Life has been crazy so I just fell a little behind. I feel like a hungover teacher on a Monday sipping Diet Coke and snacking on rice thins. :/

I did not regret the spontaneous concert for a second. I would not have found this bright and beautiful voice hidden behind such a timid girl. I couldn’t help but overhear her sing and I was blown away at the control she had over each note and phrase. She purposefully sang quiet which is not an easy thing. It takes practice and experience. If I had known her personally, she very well could have already been a backup singer in the band.

  
She reminded me of myself; introverted and socially anxious. Overtime, I developed the ability to overcome most of my social anxiety, but I always and forever will be a gangly introvert; wanting nothing more than a quiet little house on the beach where I can write music and enjoy the simple things in life, all while remaining anonymous.

  
Obviously, the kind of life I live at the moment will never allow for that, but that doesn’t mean I can give up hope for that someday.

  
I noticed she would fidget with things in her hands and squirm in her seat at some points. But when I gave her the opportunity, she opened up when I gave her my undivided attention, making her feel like she was the only one in the room.

  
She captivated me.

  
When she sang with me, she got so lost in the moment and let the music take her somewhere I wished I could have followed. She knew what she was doing. She knew her way around my music, which I find to be one of the best compliments.

  
Her head would slightly tilt back and her eyes would close partly, but you could still see them light up with some otherworldly presence. It was beautiful.

  
I needed more of it.

  
I wanted her to sing with me on stage.


	3. One Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Linden

He gently released my hand and he didn’t hint that he found anything awkward about the moment, so felt more comfortable.

  
Gareth leaned over to me and congratulated me, “Chroist ye goht eh angel en ye chest do ya nehw.”

  
“Oh… thank you.” I peeped. I began to hold my arms and take a few discreet deep breaths.

  
_Did that really just happen?_

  
Andrew’s bodyguard- who stood slightly shorter than I- murmured something close to his ear. Andrew stood from his seat and pulled a Sharpie out from his pocket.

  
“Alright everyone. I was just told I’m allowed to take fifteen minutes to do autographs and pictures.”

  
The crowd let out happy noises and either reached into their bag or pockets for their phones, or things to have signed, or for their phones to be signed.

  
There was a minute per person.

  
That means I had fourteen minutes to debate on whether or not to give him the letter.

  
Was there even a chance that he would read it? Would it just get tossed aside with all the other letters and wait to be opened half a year later?

  
Before I could gather my thoughts, the fan before me gave Andrew a final embrace and I was the next- and last- person in the room with Andrew; save for his bodyguard.

  
I wasn't sure if I wanted this minute to last forever or only briefly. I was so nervous.

  
I couldn’t tell why.

  
My mind was flooding with so many things I wanted to say, and yet I lacked the knowledge of how to form the sentences. He was just so tall and real and handsome.

The fan before me walked towards the door and Andrew waved goodbye. Then his eyes shot directly to mine and I could feel them pierce right through my skull.

Shit.

  
“Linden!” he exclaimed.

  
“Yes?” I squeaked.

  
“I should be the one asking for your autograph. I still can’t get over how well you did, especially when I put you under that kind of pressure. I’m sorry about that by the way.”

  
His eyebrows drew together and his eyes became so gentle looking.

  
“It’s fine, really. It was honestly one of my biggest dreams come true and now I feel officially welcomed to Ireland, so thank you, Andrew. You’re an artist I truly look up to and support on a daily basis.”

  
He put his hands to his heart and smiled, “Awe thank you so much. That means a lot to me and I’m glad I could make this happen for you.”

  
There wasn't much time left and I was still debating on whether or not to give him the letter. Andrew set his hand on my shoulder, “Would you like an autograph or a picture, before I go?”

  
“Well…” I drew out, gratified with seeing his expression brighten as he time shortly progressed. “I don’t have anything for you to sign, and I’m kind of against pictures in moments like these.”

  
“And why is that?” his mouth parted to reveal a charming grin accompanied by his light and burnished voice.

  
“I just think I’m against it because it takes away from the actual moment.”

  
I was surprised to see himself lean in more intently to hear my opinion as he crossed his arms and propped his chin on one hand.

  
I continued, “If you think of it this way: a lot of people these days spend almost all of their time trying to preserve these special memories so they could rewatch it over and over again or share it on their social media for publicity and followers. When instead, if you put that all away and really soak in the moment, it’ll be etched in your brain for eternity. It will be more genuine and real, because you’re not watching the moment happening in front of you through a screen.”

  
His head was nodding and the palm of his hand now covered half of his mouth, but he was smiling through it.

  
“Wow, yeah. I totally agree. You don’t meet many people like that anymore these days, do you?” His voice lowered to a hushed tone.

  
“I’d say they’re few and far between.” I agreed, slightly matching his tone.

  
“Linden, you just keep on surprising me. First, you sing like you could be part of the band, then you state some deep shit that I totally agree with, and now, I can see you start to be yourself. You captivate me, you know that?”

  
I didn’t know what to say in response to that. I was still trying to process what he just said to me. Before I could form a sentence I saw the bodyguard approach Andrew and I could feel my heart sink from my throat to my colon.

  
It turns out I wanted that minute to last forever.


	4. One Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is in the perspective of Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late uploads recently. I've been going through some personal crap and I'm currently on vacation. I hope you are all doing well and staying safe. 
> 
> Stay alive you beautiful creatures!

“One second, Sean.” I turned to my bodyguard.

  
I needed more time with Linden and I had an idea. I just needed to run it by her instead of surprising her along with the crowd again.

  
Before she could begin to say goodbye I took her hand in mine and made sure I had her attention. Her hands were shockingly large compared to the rest of her person but they didn’t stand out in any way. Her fingertips were calloused on her left hand, which led to a high probability that she played guitar, or another stringed instrument. When I looked into her eyes, I noticed that they were a sort of honey color, rimmed with a sharp, deep brown. I had never seen any like them.

  
It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

  
“Linden, ehm… I’m going to ask you something, but please know you don’t have to say yes and if you say no I’ll pretend I didn’t even ask you.”

  
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened but nothing came out. I was making this harder than it had to be.

  
“What is it?” she said in a confident voice.

  
“I’m going to talk to the band and crew because I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. I’d like you to sing with me again tonight during the concert.”

  
Her eyes got wider and her grasp on my hand slightly tightened. It was then I noticed that her hand fit nicely in mine.

  
I soon realized I wasn't being the nicest person. If I were in her position I would’ve needed time to think about it. Instead, I was just standing there admiring the feel of her hands.

_You fucking idiot._

  
“You want me to sing again?” she asked again after a few more moments.

  
“Yes.” I squeaked, holding my breath in hopes she would say yes.

  
“Tonight?”

  
“Yes, tonight.” I laughed.

  
“You’re serious, Andrew?”

  
“As serious as can be.” I smoothed my thumb across the back of her hand. This girl was craic. She took another minute to think about it. I could feel the anticipation building from the bottom in my throat and wrapping around to the nape of my neck.

  
“I never even imagined what happened earlier could have happened to me and I’m already content with that…” she paused.

  
My heart began to sink and I felt my face quickly following suit.

  
“...but I only live once and I would be an idiot to pass up this offer. So, yes I would love to sing with you tonight!” her eyes shone with such intense brightness that they looked like beacons; matching how my heart felt.

  
“Great! I’m excited. I’m sure the band will love you.” I squeezed her hand and gently released it, realizing I had been holding it for awhile. She didn’t seem to mind. But after letting go it felt wrong, like some sort of absence.

  
I felt Sean’s hand touch my elbow and he murmured to me that I had to go.

  
“I’m so sorry, Linden. I have to get going now, but I’ll see you soon.” I winked at her and began to turn around when she exclaimed that she had forgotten to give me something.

  
I sensed Sean growing impatient, so I turned to him and whispered, “Please Sean, just a bit longer. She’s different.”

  
He nodded, but his face was completely expressionless.

  
When I turned back, she was holding a purple tube and elaborated after seeing my quizzical expression.

  
“It’s hair cream. I know how much your fans adore your hair, including myself, and I thought I would give you one of my go-to products. I’m actually wearing it right now in my hair. All you have to do is put it in your wet hair and let it air dry and it does its magic. It defines the curls you have and keeps them from getting frizzy.” Her eyes were smiling and as I studied her hair, it looked absolutely stunning. It looked very similar to a simple elvish hair style, and her curls were just as she described. Defined, but in no way frizzy, and they also appeared soft and grease free.

  
I was blown away by her decision of giving rather than receiving. I had received many gifts before but no one had ever given me a hair product, and with such genuine intention. I was eager to try it.

  
“Wow. Thank you so much, ehm… I don’t even know what to say... here,” I bent down and gave her a big hug. Her arms wrapped around my waist and my chin rested on top of her head. Her hair smelled like a rich tropical breeze. By then I was really excited to try that hair product. I could also smell a sharpness to her aroma; earthy but not like patchouli. It was fresh and floral with a coolness; it reminded me of rain.

  
I felt different when I hugged her. She wasn't like other fans. She kept her distance, she was humble, and she reminded me a lot like myself. Something about her just tugged at something in me.

  
We pulled away from each other and I sighed, “I really should get going, but ehm… thank you for the gift, truly. And ehm… Sean will show you to your seat and I’ll see you out there.”

  
“Of course! I can’t wait.” she said.

<><><><><><><><>

As I entered the green room the whole band was waiting for me. There was an hour and a half left until the concert started. Everyone was laughing to what seemed like Alex making an inside joke. I was too late for the punchline so my presence produced a hush that fell over the room. Thankfully it didn’t make things awkward, they were nonetheless happy to see me.

  
“Hey, how’d the meet and greet go?” Alex asked.

  
I took a deep breath and thought about how I would go about telling them about Linden.

  
“Well, ehm… it was different. Definitely more personal which was great. And ehm, there were some pretty great singers there too. There was a young woman who stood out from the rest. She was next to me, in fact,” I trailed off remembering the first line she sang of that song.

  
I had everyone’s attention and I could feel them lean in slightly. I could feel every eye pierce through me. The silence in the room turned into a deafening ring.

  
“And?” Rory drew out.

  
“Well,” I paused. “Remember how we decided not to do In a Week tonight?”

  
“Because Karen couldn’t make it.” Ryan interjected.

  
“Yes, well that girl has a stunning voice,” I surveyed them and they still looked interested; a good sign, “She said that “In a Week” is her favorite song and I decided to play it and have her do an on-the-spot duet with me and she absolutely killed the fuck out of it. And I may or may not want to sing it with her again… tonight.”

  
The silence once again filled the room. The team’s faces were unreadable and I was beginning to feel anxious.

  
“What do you guys think?” My voice became gravely.

  
The girls shrugged and Rory nodded slowly in thought. Alex and Cormac were clearly bothered.

  
I didn’t blame them. From their point of view I was bringing this complete stranger with no known stage experience into our concert on such short notice. I was starting to feel like an arsehole.

  
I pushed my hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. And pressed my lips together for a moment.

  
“I understand why you may have reservations, but all I ask is that you take my word for it and give her a chance,” my eyes met both men and I could see their posture soften.

  
“Bring her in,” said Cormac.

  
The girls got excited and their outward expressions reflected inside of me.

  
With a fickle heart and smile, I left the room to find Sean.


	5. No Forevers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Linden's perspective. 
> 
> Linden is pulled back stage before the concert. She expects the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who are still reading this. I really appreciate all your support. Life has been insane for me the past few months and I can only imagine it becoming more hectic. Writing is what I love so I won't give up, but it'll just take a bit more time for me to publish. There are good things in sight for this work and I'm truly excited for it.
> 
> Stay alive and beautiful, lovelies <3

I had an hour before the concert began, but I couldn’t explore because it wasn't like many of the venues I’ve been to in America. There weren’t any booths where I could buy food or merchandise because of the size of the venue. I just sat in my VIP seat and pulled out my “just in case” book. I applauded myself for my overly-cautious packing.

  
Just when I began to lose myself to the unfolding universe in my book, I could feel eyes watching me. I peered over the pages and saw Seán looking directly at me. Lowering the book to my lap, I tilted my head to the side and he motioned with his finger to approach him.

  
At that point, my mind went through 100 million possibilities he needed to talk to me and I came upon the idea that Andrew no longer wanted to sing with me.

  
Trying my best to swallow the rock forming in my throat, I leaned close so I could hear him over the gathering mass of voices.

  
“You have been summoned,” he said in an ominous tone.

  
“I’m sorry?”

  
“Mr. Hozier-Byrne would like to see you.”

  
“Oh,” I squeaked. Now believing that what I had in mind was true and he wanted to apologize.

  
As I followed Seán behind the stage and into a terminal, I could feel disappointment reddening my cheeks and trickle into my eyes. My hands were cold as always, and I placed the back of them on my cheeks. I didn’t want to show up and look like a tomato for some unknown reason to Andrew.

  
We turned a few corners and on the last one, Andrew was leaning against the wall, with his head watching his hands knead each other. Once he heard our feet hitting the concrete floor, he looked up and beamed a huge smile towards me.

  
Why was he so happy to tell me the sad news?

  
When I reached him he took my hand in his and he opened his mouth to speak. His smile faded and his eyes filled with concern.

  
“Shit. Are you alright? You look like you’re pretty anxious.” his eyes searched mine and it surprised me. I never had anyone who sensed my distress so quickly and concernedly.

  
The back of my hand returned to my cheek and I blinked back a tear.

  
“Uhm… yeah, yeah I’m okay,” I shook my head and buried my panic deep down.

  
After taking a couple seconds to compose myself, I asked why I was brought to him. He explained that the team wanted to meet me and that it would be a good idea to let them hear us sing together.

  
“It’s just to prove that you’re as good as I say you are. No pressure, really,” he winked.

  
I smiled back feeling overcome with relief that he still wanted to sing with me. But then I realized I had to prove myself to the band and that provided me with a fresh and pervasive wave of anxiety. To me, I couldn’t care less about what the audience thought, because it’s not their song or their performance. But it was the fact that I was about to sing in front of the people who perform it constantly.

  
“You sure you’re alright, Linden?” his voice was soft and his eyes were compassionate. His other hand covered the top of my hand as his thumb softly stoked it.

  
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. There’s just a lot going on right now. I was honestly convinced you were going to back out and I had no reason to blame you. I’m overjoyed that it’s actually the opposite. It’s just a lot.”

  
I didn't realize my grip on his hand was tightening, but he didn’t once mention it or let go of my hand.

  
“Are you prone to panic attacks?” he asked suddenly and quietly.

  
“No. It’s not that bad,” I said quietly and dipped my head out of slight embarrassment.

  
“It’s okay, Linden. When I get anxious my face gets flushed like yours. I’ve had a couple attacks when I was younger and I just wanted to make sure that’s not the case for you.” The back of his cool hand brushed against my flushed cheek and our eyes met each other.

  
I saw something in him that I didn’t recognize. It wasn't in any of the videos I’ve seen him in or performances. He was beginning to be someone I didn’t even know of. He was becoming someone new; his real self shining through all the expectations and assumptions the media puts on him.

“Do you still get anxious? On stage?” I asked.

  
He explained that his anxiety is still very real and tormenting, especially in stressful situations or on stage. His voice chokes sometimes if it gets bad enough.

  
As he said those things his hand softly and slowly slipped from my cheek to my jaw and his fingers were the last to leave. I watched his eyes follow his hand; half-lidded and lethargic.

  
Once our eyes met, he realized what he had done and what effect it might have had on me. His hand pulled away to his chest and his fingers curled to his palm.

  
“Sorry…” he blushed, “I don’t want to keep the gang waiting any longer.

  
“No, of course,” I started.

  
Following him down the hall seemed like it was all in slow-motion. As I passed Seán, he looked at me as if he knew something I didn’t.

  
Turning the last corner and into the green room, I realized that my parents and friends would never believe what was happening to me right now.

  
I admired the view of his backside. How long his legs were, how his pants fit a little awkwardly around his waist, how his shirt fell just below where his jumper ended. How he liked to bunch his sleeves up near his elbows. How he still had shorter hair curling onto his long, pale neck, because it was too short to pull it back with his hair tie.

  
He was a tall and beautiful creature. I was sad to think that it would only last for the evening. I wanted to get to know him more, get closer. But it felt so far from that.

  
In the end, I was just like every other fan; normal. I had no chance of seeing him ever again like this and I wanted to make the most of it, because I knew it wouldn’t last forever.


	6. Proven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Andrew 
> 
> Linden performs for the band moments before the concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful people. I've been feeling pretty good this week so I decided to post another chapter, though it is pretty short. 
> 
> I just want to thank you for all of your support and I am truly enjoying this journey in my first time of posting a fanfic. 
> 
> Stay alive and classy <3

Everyone was so wonderful and supportive! 

Linden was introduced to the band and she was ecstatic to meet every one. It meant something more to me, knowing she enjoyed the band as a whole and not just me. She was so much different than any other fan I’ve met. 

Every passing moment with her was a surprise. 

When we sang for the team I watched the girls’ mouths drop open, Rory’s head looked up, and Alex’s eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t help but smile; I felt proud. She showed no trace of anxiety whatsoever, or at least she did very well to hide it. 

_ She’ll do great on stage.  _

When we finished, there was applause and Alex pulled me aside. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said. 

“She’s something isn’t she?” I looked at her with a smile on my face. 

“Absolutely. She can replace Karen any day.” 

“Hey now! That’s my friend you’re talking about.” 

“What?” he raised his hands in defense. “You know I meant no harm. I’m just saying… you should get her number or something.” 

“You think?” I asked. My eyes trailed off to her and she was laughing with Rachel; talking about The States, no doubt. 

When I approached Linden to ask for her number, it was announced that there were five minutes till the concert. 

Seán took Linden away to escort her back to her seat.

I would have to meet up with her after the concert. 

  
  



	7. Sweet Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Linden.
> 
> The concert commences and so does the beginning of a new chapter in Linden's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Samantha! 
> 
> Thank you for the kind words you left. I hope you enjoy the new addition. 
> 
> College has begun which means my creative mind will be under much stress and sleep deprivation. Please be patient with me as some chapters may come late.
> 
> Stay alive my lovelies <3

The concert was fucking mind blowing! 

I never usually went to concerts unless I  _ really  _ liked whoever was playing, and I was never disappointed. But  _ this.  _

This was another worldly experience. 

There’s just this energy that he and his band exudes that I’ve never experienced with any other band… other than Mumford and Sons. But this was still slightly different. 

An electricity contaminated the air and it made my ears hum. 

The crowd sang along with fervor and I could feel every harmony and melody- every pluck of his fingers on his strings- in the very depths of my existence. 

I soon became entangled with how Andrew performed. He was an entirely different man than the one I met just hours ago. He would bounce or stomp with certain beats like a frustrated child. Or pout and grit his teeth with certain phrases. His lips would caress and rub against the microphone, slightly distorting the pronunciation of some words. But it was purposeful and perfect. He was confident, magnificent… 

Feral. Only when it was appropriate. But feral nonetheless. At moments I could feel my breath hitch with the growl in his voice, or a tingle in between my legs when he would snap his teeth together or make a sultry pouty face. Other girls screamed, but I would forget to breathe. 

For such a long time, I knew what Andrew stood for and what he felt was his purpose on the earth and I couldn’t have agreed more with him. There was this mutual hunger for change and to be the ones to make it happen. While most girls drooled over him, I was drawn to him by intrigue. I wanted to know him more and understand him on a deeper level. I wanted to know him more than just the amazing singer who’s not afraid to stand up for inequalities. I wanted to know the little things about him. I think the fact that his position in society and career denied me that made me want to know him more.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

<><><><><><><><>

There were songs that were known for Andrew’s sensual side that he performed: It Will Come Back, Dinner and Diatribes, No Plan, Somebody New, Talk, Movement, To Be Alone, Nobody. 

While he would convey such feral feelings with such ease, I would often find him locking eyes with me. I wasn't sure how to react, or to feel. 

Was I just easy to find in the crowd, or was there another reason to be looking at me? Regardless I sang every lyric and kept my composure. 

<><><><><><><><>

It was the second to last song. Everyone was cheering and Andrew patiently waited and sprinkled in a few thank yous. When the crowd died down he switched his guitars and adjusted his microphone. A crew member brought out another microphone and set it four feet next to him. I could feel my stomach sink as he began to introduce the song, and me. 

“This next song is, ehm, one I rarely do in concert, seeing as it is a duet that I produced with a wonderful friend of mine. But today I happened to meet an extremely talented woman who did the song justice just a few hours ago during the meet and greet. And ehm, I would like to invite her to the stage to sing it with me tonight. So everyone please welcome, Mrs. Linden!” 

The crowd began to roar in cheers and applause and it was all so overwhelming. My ears began to ring and the man I met outside in line was patting me on the back and cheering for me. Thankfully, Seán reached out to me and he led me to the stage access. 

My knees were non-existent while I walked across the stage, seeing as it felt as if I was walking on water. The band was applauding me and Andrew held his arm out towards me. I didn’t really process much, it was all background noise; not because I was ungrateful, but because I was trying my hardest to focus on my motor skills. 

I reached Andrew and he put his hand on my back and leaned to my ear. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” my voice quivered. 

“Alright. Just give a nod and I’ll begin. No hurry to you at all. Take some deep breaths if you need.” 

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. In that time I found certain things to anchor myself; taking my mind to the small things around me to distract from the bigger things. The microphone in front of me, my hair tickling my arm, and Andrew’s hand still placed on my back. 

Breathe in for one.. two… three… four… five… 

Breathe out for one… two… three… 

Hold for one… two… three… 

I nodded. 

Andrew’s hand dissolved from my back and began to play the intro I knew note for note. 

I opened my eyes and could see everyone stare at us with wide eyes, and flashlights from people livestreaming. 

_ I can do this.  _

As soon as I heard his voice slip effortlessly over every note, I could feel myself escape into the realm of which my favorite music often takes me. Except this was different. It wasn't an escape, it was a privilege. 

When he finished his verse, the pre-chorus arrived and I felt my hands creep closer to the microphone. 

I opened my mouth to sing and I lost myself to the music. 

It didn’t feel real. I couldn’t believe I was singing with Andrew, much less in front of thousands of people. 

My breath felt shaky but my voice remained strong. I felt like I hit every note and minded to blend with Andrew in times of singing together. 

Before I knew it, the song had ended. The arena erupted in applause and Andrew pulled me into a tight hug. He placed his face close to my ear so I could hear him speak. 

“That was fucking brilliant, Linden. Even better than the last two times!” he squeezed me closer to him. 

As he did so, I slipped the letter I had written to him into the back pocket of his trousers. Then I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. It was the last time I would ever get to hug him. 

_ Damn.  _

When we broke from the embrace he placed his hand where I placed the letter and his eyebrows furrowed. I stepped closer and told him to open it after the show. 

He nodded and then took my hand to lead me to the edge of the stage. When we reached the edge, he turned me towards him and hugged me once more. 

“Thanks again for humoring me. You were so wonderful and brave,” he kissed me on the cheek and the girls got a kick out of that. 

“Thanks for having faith in me,” I replied. He nodded to me and made sure Seán was there to take me back to my seat. 

_ Did I just sing a duet about having sex in a field with Andrew Hozier-Fucking-Byrne?  _

Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought that. When I returned to my seat, Gareth wrapped his arms around me and told me he was proud. 

“Jeezis ey joost met ya boot ey feel leyk a prood fahder. Ye joost seng wit fooking Hozier, jeezis chroist!”

After the crowd quieted and Andrew switched guitars. He stepped up to the mike. 

“Thank you everyone! And especially thank you, Linden,” he bowed to me with his hand to his chest, “It takes real courage to do what you just did and I commend you for it. Let’s give it up for Linden once again everyone!” 

The arena erupted and my adrenaline began to wear off. For the next song my knees wouldn’t stop shaking and everything went blurry. 

<><><><><><><><>

There was a moment when the band began to sing covers that they had done before. 

One that especially stuck with me was “Sweet Thing”, originally done by Van Morrison. I was a fan of his songs and I remembered the first time I heard Hozier do his cover of it for the Naked Sessions. It blew my mind. 

He sang it at the concert and I couldn’t have been more excited. I also began to notice that he would look at me whenever he sang the lyric, “Good god, you’re a sweet thing”. 

The third time it happened I pointed to myself, wondering if it really was me he was looking at, or if it was someone in my vicinity. 

He nodded and winked at me. 

Shit, that was at  _ me _ . 

How the  _ fuck _ was I supposed to react to that?

<><><><><><><>

The concert ended beautifully with “Take Me To Church”; the song that made Hozier. 

As we evacuated the arena, Gareth invited me to a pub with his friends. I politely declined and exchanged instagrams instead. I was absolutely wrecked in every sense. 

I just wanted to be in my bed, curled up with a cup of tea and a book.

I put my leather coat back on after stepping from the warm, stuffy building into the chilled, night air. 

It only took five minutes for the bus to arrive. I found a seat in the back and pulled my book out to read, but I couldn’t concentrate. I was still in disbelief that I sang with Hozier. If I told my parents they would never believe me. I wouldn’t believe me. 

I resulted to listening to music and slipping to wherever it took me. “In A Week” came on and a smile slowly spread across my face. I would forever cherish those moments I spent with Andrew and the rest of the team. 

But then I could feel my smile leave my face and my brows melted towards each other. 

On one hand I was grateful for such a rare opportunity. But on the other hand I knew seeing him again like that was never going to happen. 

I remembered that I never included my name in the letter I wrote and of course I didn’t include my number. That would be weird. 

I could always reach out to him on social media, but the chances of being noticed were pretty slim due to how many people contact his socials every day. 

Maybe I would get the moment tattooed on my body. It would be a great addition to my collection. I had Mumford and Sons’ wings logo under my right collarbone, a hummingbird on my forearm in memory of my grandmother, and a couple lyric tattoos. My favorite one was a lyric from Hozier’s “Run” on my ribs: 

_ Rare is this love  _

_ Keep it covered.  _

_ I need you to run to me.  _

_ Run to me, Lover. _

_ Run until you feel your lungs bleeding.  _

The moment of gloom cleared quickly and the time it took to ride home slipped effortlessly by. . .

_ What a fucking day! _


	8. Rainy Tarmac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Andrew
> 
> Andrew reads Linden's letter and feels a variety of strong emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support. I'm really enjoying this story; hopefully as much as you! 
> 
> Things are doing okay right now in my life so hopefully, I will get more writing done and published. 
> 
> Stay alive and know that every one of you are loved <3

We wrapped up the concert with an introduction of “Jackboot Jump”, followed by “Nina Cried Power”, and ended with “Take Me To Church”.

I knew this concert was going to be forever seared into my mind. It was brilliant. 

<><><><><><><><>

In the green room everyone did their post-show wind down.

As I pulled my in-ear monitor pack out of my back pocket, I remembered Linden slipped something in the other side. I pulled it out to find a small envelope with my name printed in neat, cursive handwriting. 

The letter was so thoughtful, sweet and beautifully written. The envelope carried her scent; fresh, crisp and bright. 

I looked on the front and back of the letter for her full name or contact information but there was nothing. I thought to myself it naturally made sense because I wouldn’t want most fans putting their phone numbers down. It would be weird. 

I was startled by Alex’s voice right behind me. 

“What’s that ye got there?” he asked. 

“Christ. You scared me. It’s ehm… a letter from Linden. She didn't leave her name or any way to contact her, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry, Andy,” he patted my back. 

After a moment, I turned to Alex ready to pitch him an idea. 

“What’s that look for? Are you going to do something stupid?” his eyebrow lifted. 

I placed my hands firmly around his shoulders, “Do you think she’s left yet?” I asked, searching his eyes. 

I knew that if I did nothing to go after her, I would regret letting such an amazing woman slip out of reach. I had to at least try to find her. It had only been ten minutes since the concert ended, she couldn’t have gone far. 

Alex sighed, “You’ve got to be shitting me, Andrew.” 

I moved him out of my path and flew into the halls. Seán was leaning against a wall and I startled him. 

“Is everything alright sir?” he asked. 

“Where’s the nearest exit that would take me towards the road?” 

He looked confused and I didn’t have the time for it. 

“Seán, I need to find her. Tell me now please!” I raised my voice but I didn’t shout. To be fair he had no idea what was going on in my head. However, it had been a long evening and my patience was nearly spent.

Fortunately he knew what I meant and I watched his eyes light up. 

He pointed in the direction I was facing and rattled off directions so fast I could hardly keep up, “Continue straight for two intersections. At the third one, turn left until you reach the second door on your right.” 

I flew down the hall and just about missed my turn. Correcting myself, I tripped over my feet, but did not fall. 

_ I’m such a fucking mess.  _

I could hear my boots thudding against the concrete floors, echoing down the halls. 

I reached the second door and received a shock with how cool the air was when I flung the door open. My breath was heavy and I could hear voices off in the distance. 

My eyes scanned across the wet pavement and spotted a bus arriving 30 meters away. As I ran closer, I could see the girl boarding the bus was Linden. 

“Linden, wait!” I shouted over and over, picking up speed. I have never ran so fast in my life. 

By the time I was ten meters away, The bus drove off and her nose was buried in a book. 

She was gone. 

“Shit!” I hissed under my breath. 

The cold air mixed with my heavy breathing and frustration gave my lungs a tight and slightly burning sensation. 

Downcast and dejected, I slowly walked back to the door to find Seán waiting for me. He looked nearly as shitty as I felt. He spoke to me in a remorseful tone, “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Yeah… me too.” I tried to say. But for some reason my throat clenched up. I could feel my ears and cheeks get hot and my eyes began to sting. 

I was actually going to weep over her?

_ Damn right I was. _

When I made it to the green room I made a beeline to the jacks. I might have owned my emotions for Linden, but that didn’t mean I wanted people to see. I hate it when people see me cry. Just because no one really knows how to react to it. I never know how to react to it. 

After giving myself fifteen minutes to let my nose and cheeks lose their redness, I grabbed a beer and set myself on the couch. My arse sank low into the cushions and it felt like my knees pulled up to my chest. Alex found me searching every Linden that had a social media. 

“Jeeeezus chroist. You’re serious about her aren’t you.” he murmured. 

“If you don’t want to help me, then piss off.” I snapped. I shouldn’t have, but I was already two beers in and my spirits were at an all time low. 

Alex knew I didn’t mean it. He pulled out his phone and helped me search. 

Ten minutes later all our gear was packed up and it was time to go home. Alex patted me on the back, “Come on, mate. I’ll take ye home and we’ll look for her more tomorrow, eh?” 

I sighed and rubbed my face. 

“Fine. Alright.” 

He was right. I just needed to take a hot shower, sleep on it, and then reach out to my fans to see if they would help. 

On second thought, asking my fans would only create unwanted attention between Linden and I. I’ve always preferred to keep my personal life separate from my career life. 

I like to keep as much anonymity as I possibly can. It’s not easy trying to find a line between oversharing and seeming like you’re not invested in your fanbase. 

<><><><><><><><>

Later that night, I layed in bed with the letter on my bedside table. An hour passed since my head hit my pillow and I felt like my eyes hadn’t even blinked once. 

_ Christ.  _

I got up and made myself a cuppa in my boxer pants and a jumper. As I waited for the water to boil, I thought I’d walk back to my bedside and use my phone to do another quick search for Linden. I quickly decided against it, figuring that it would only make me more frustrated if I couldn’t find her. 

I reached for the letter instead and took a pen out of the bedside drawer. Clicking it open, I scratched out, “ _ a fan who’s name is of no importance”  _ and wrote underneath,  _ “Linden”.  _

  
  



	9. Steam and Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Linden. 
> 
> She reflects on events that have happened to her in the span of a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures! 
> 
> I'd like to start off by saying the support I've received is absolutely phenomenal. I wouldn't be posting if is wasn't for you. 
> 
> I want to apologize for the delays in uploading. College is a very real thing for me right now and it's a bitch. Learning how to save lives as a Paramedic keeps me busy for sure. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize it is on the shorter side. But I hope to be updating sooner rather than later. 
> 
> Stay alive and know that every single one of you are priceless. You are worth more than anything in this world <3

A month passed since the concert and I began to grow fond of the new life I set out to live.

It wasn't much. 

I served at Goldsmiths Pub all day and every day, except for Tuesday and Wednesday, then Saturday I would work in the evening into the early hours of the morning. I enjoyed the live music they provided. It always gave that extra touch to make the atmosphere cozy and welcoming. 

There were definitely more people than I expected coming in early into the week, but I honestly couldn’t blame them. 

Monday is a bitch. 

I built some relationships with regular customers and I got to know their story. 

There was an old man who met his wife in the pub. They settled down and built a happy life in the quiet beauty of Wicklow. They made it tradition to have a drink there every Friday. He still carried on the tradition after his wife died of lymphoma. He brings a picture of her with him every time. One time he seemed to have misplaced it, and so I saved his seat while he went back to wherever it was left to get it. 

If that wasn’t love, then I didn’t know what was. 

I often found myself looking around to see if someone I recognized strolled in unassuming. 

Someone like Andrew. 

But it hadn’t happened. I knew it wouldn’t. 

Nevertheless, I kept hope and would steal a glance to the entrance every once and awhile, regardless if I was content with where I was in life and I couldn’t ask for anything more. 

<><><><><><><><>

After every shift I would go home and put some music on while taking a shower. “In A Week” would sometimes come on and I’d sing along as if we were back on stage together. I would look at myself in the mirror before entering the shower and look at my body. I was nowhere near skinny, but I wouldn’t consider myself fat. I had no thigh gap, I had stretch marks on my stomach and thighs, my stomach was not even close to flat, and cellulite was definitely present. 

Was I confident in my skin? No. 

Should I accept my body for how it is? Yes, but it’s a process. 

But over the past month, I began to feel more daring and confident in how I felt, not necessarily how I looked. However, my specific feelings about my body slightly diminished. 

As I stepped into the shower and the hot water caressed and cascaded down my body, I wondered what it would feel like if Andrew’s hands replaced it. The warmth of his body pressed against me from behind. His arms wrapped around me, so his hands would trail down from my neck to my thighs. His large and slender hands trying to cover as much surface area as possible. His few long nails on his right hand grazing my skin sending electricity to every sensitive part of my body. His face pressed against my head, with his steady breath adding heat from my ear, down to my neck. 

But I would find myself alone. I was okay with it. I knew that the experience I had with Hozier was once in a lifetime and I cherished it. There’s no way I would ask for anything else more. 

<><><><><><><><>

I decided to tell my family about the concert. They didn’t really know how to react. 

I didn’t either. 

They just sprinkled in a few remarks of surprise and questions about if I was nervous or not. 

Sometimes I wondered if they truly knew me. Of course I was nervous; I shat my pants! 

My sister later texted me with other questions:

_ Her: Was he cute in person?  _

_ Me: Yes, more handsome in person than virtually. Taller too.  _

_ Her: Did he touch you?  _

_ Me: What?!  _

_ Her: Did he touch your hand, or like, hug you.  _

_ Me: Oh… yeah he held my hand a couple times, hugged me, and kissed my cheek after the performance.  _

I replayed the kiss in my head. It was quick and there wasn't much to it. I remember his stubble grazing my cheek and it was a pleasant feeling. Maybe because there wasn't a shadow of doubt in my mind that he did kiss me. 

I wondered what it would’ve felt like on my lips. 

_ Her: Oh my gosh! That’s so hot!!!  _

_ Me: Well… kinda? We were always in front of people so it wasn't really special?.. _

_ Her: Oh okay. But still! I’m happy for you.  _

I felt like she was the one person who understood me. It was the hardest leaving her. We talked about how she would move over with me when she turned eighteen. She was sixteen but her soul and mind were aged and wise; we were both very mature for our age. 

I always had a hard time trying to find friends my age. They always seemed to be several years older than I. And those who were my age just seemed childish to me, even at the age of twenty. It posed problems whenever I would gain feelings for a guy. Especially when I was younger. When you’re still in your teens, the age difference seems monumentally larger. But once you hit your twenties, it’s not so bad. 

I only had a month left and I would turn twenty-one so having feelings for a twenty-nine year old didn’t seem too extreme… 

  
  



	10. Guinness(es)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Andrew. 
> 
> He suffers a bout of terrible writer's block and tries nearly everything to cure it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! 
> 
> I had some time on my hands today and thought I'd post a new chapter. Thankfully it's a longer one. I hope you enjoy and an apology in advance... sorry for the cliff hanger...

A month had passed and I couldn’t find the words to write how I felt about Linden. I hardly knew her and yet, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Infatuation hit me harder than anyone I knew before and it clouded any creative outlet in my mind. I never had a problem writing my songs before because the people of interest were often imaginary. But because Linden was so elusive and yet so familiar, she was all I could think about. 

I was crazy, Alex told me. 

I believed him. 

Regardless, we searched.

We searched all of Twitter, all of Instagram and all of Facebook but to no avail. I even took walks that lasted hours, hoping somehow I would cross her path but I did not. There were many a night that I would go out to pubs with the team, or alone, hoping that she would be there but she was not. Every day I carried her letter in my wallet, hoping to one day show her that I wrote her name in because her name truly was of importance, but I never saw her. 

I just couldn’t get over the gnawing feeling that I might not ever see her again and I was so close to catching her attention that night of the concert. 

<><><><><><><><>

One day I woke at four in the morning and spent what felt like an eternity trying to find ways to form lyrics. But I failed. It was just noise circulating in my head. Phrases and emotions scratched at my skull but they were trapped and their voices were muffled. I hardly slept the previous night, and food just felt like a distraction. 

Finally, around seven in the evening I took a shower in an attempt to clear my head. It only cleared my sinuses. 

I sat in a towel on the edge of my bed in silence. It was so quiet my ears were ringing. As I sat even more still, I could feel my heart beating strongly, slightly teetering my body forward, and back again; like being rocked gently in an attempt to calm a child down. Only, what needed to calm down was not a child, it was, in fact, the mind that resided within me, chaotically burning itself to its core with racing thoughts and new found anxieties. 

_ What if I can’t forget Linden? Will I ever be able to concentrate enough to write music again? What if I create this image of her in my head and it turns out she’s completely the opposite of who I thought she was? What if I do eventually forget about her and we happen to cross paths, only to part ways again? _

I needed a drink. 

I picked up my phone to call Karen. She was one of the only friends I haven’t told about Linden, although I was sure she already heard. 

As the phone rang, I could feel anxiety creep up from my chest and hold tight to my throat. 

“Andrew?” Karen answered. 

I cleared my throat and pushed past how awkward I felt, “Ehm… yes, hey Karie.” 

“Is everything alright?”

“I’ve been better, to be honest. I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink?” 

“Ehm… I sort of had a small plan-” her voice held an apologetic tone. 

“Oh, well no worries then. It was a last minute thing to be fair,” I felt stupid for calling in such short notice. I also could feel a little lump of disappointment gather in my throat. 

“Andy, you didn’t let me finish,” Karen’s voice was stern. 

“Right. Sorry.” I fumbled with my words as I felt a heavy heat spread from my neck up to my ears. 

“I was going to say that I didn’t want to go through with that plan anyways, so yes, I will go for a drink. I’ll just call the other person and make some shitty excuse about why I can’t make it. I even know a quiet pub that I like to go to. I’m practically on my way. I’ll see you at eight, yeah?” She always had a different capacity to show compassion to others. If the slightest thing was bothering you, she would notice and make sure it was resolved or talked about. She never wanted people to sit in their pain, when she knew she could be there to help. It tears her up inside when she feels like she can’t help. 

“Ehm, yeah sure! Thanks by the way. I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, Andy.” The line went dead and I raced to get dressed. 

I grabbed a pair of black trousers, a blue and white striped shirt, a jean jacket, and a pair of brown leather boots. Pulling my damp hair into a ponytail, I scrunch my nose at the curly and unruly strands of hair that would not stay pulled back. After checking the time, I didn’t want to fiddle with my contacts so I put on my glasses. 

Karie texted me saying she arrived.

I quickly sprayed my go-to cologne on my neck. It smelled of cedar with sweet floral notes. It was my favorite because it smelled earthy, without it smelling of dirt. But it also didn’t smell synthetic in the sense that I could identify what it smelled like with things that actually grew from the earth. I found it at a market where it didn’t specify what type of audience it was marketed towards. I felt it was a type of scent anyone could wear. 

I did an awkward jog towards my door, grabbed my wallet which contained- most importantly- Linden’s note. 

As I sat into the passenger seat of Karie’s Range Rover, I let out a laboured sigh without noticing. 

“Andy, you look like shit,” Karen said with a tone of worry, as if she were my mother. I told her that I felt like it and we decided the cure would be a Guinness or two… or six. I didn’t want to get shitfaced but I also didn’t want to be sober. I decided the range of slightly passed buzzed would be a good goal. 

<><><><><><><><>

My first impressions of Goldsmith’s Pub were better than I expected. It provided a warmth that was more than just a shelter from the fast approaching bitter winter. The seating was well spaced throughout the building and I could hear the faintness of a live band playing, mixed with the chatter between those who occupied tables here and there. 

I followed Karen as she approached the bar seating. I typically preferred finding a quiet corner to minimize recognition, but it was a slow night and I felt comfortable with it. 

When we sat Karie held two fingers in the air and before I knew it a cold pint of Guinness met my hand before any condinastion gathered around the glass. She was a regular and we both had the same taste in ales, stouts and liquors. 

After letting the refreshing, full-bodied liquid wash down my throat a few times, I let my eyes gaze around the room with a greater focus than before. 

Two mates were seated beside us, watching some highlights of a football game from the day before. There was a couple in a corner, lost in each other’s conversation and delicately holding hands. I saw three ladies seated next to the live band enjoying the music and eachothers companies all while sharing one large cocktail. The final person was an older man, clad in a few worn out layers of clothing and mud caked shoes. He was seated in a booth against the wall near the facilities. He had a disparaging look about his face; it was sunken inside of his skull, and it gravitated towards the ground. He was going through some tough shit and my heart went out to him. 

Just then the bartender walked by me. 

‘Excuse me,” I beckoned. After he turned I went on and asked if that man had eaten tonight. I learned he was a regular who doesn’t speak much, but he was known to roam the streets by other locals and frequenters of this pub.

“I see. Ehm… I’d like to buy him a proper meal of his choosing. Please don’t tell him who bought it, though.” I told the bartender in a hushed tone. 

With a nod, he grabbed a menu and took it over to the man. I overheard him say that a meal has been provided for him. The man inquired from whom but the waiter replied that he was not at liberty to say. 

Karen nudged my arm with her shoulder and she raised her half-empty glass. 

“Here’s to you being such a compassionate person, Andrew.” she said. 

Our pints met each other and then they met our lips. Karen finished off her first, and I was nearly finished with mine. Another round was quickly within our grasp. 

“So,” She drew out the word to imply her entering a serious subject, “What the fuck is going on with you, Andy. You are not yerself and you know it just as much as I do.” 

“I know, I know.” I sighed while rubbing my sleep deprived eyes. I let silence fall over us as I thought of ways to form my words and explain what I was experiencing. She waited beside me patiently, and I spun my pint in my left hand, and scratched my bearded jaw with my right. Finally, I mustered the strength to open my mouth and whisper, “I’m fucked Karie.” 

There was another stretch of silence. 

“What do you mean Andrew?” her tone was hushed and remained so, “Alex mentioned to me that it was a girl. What happened?” 

Her brow was furrowed and she searched my eyes for some answer. 

I told her everything. The meet and greet, the duet, the concert, the letter- which I gave her to read over-, and my frozen mind. She just sat there and listened; occasionally she would ask for clarification or for me to elaborate on certain things I was struggling with. 

Karen was always the one I could confide in, although I never found it easy to. I always feel selfish or like I’m a burden to seek help. But she’s the one who reminds me that I, too, am human and fighting through something with someone isn’t selfish. 

Whenever we talked, she never offered solutions immediately, or interjected with her own experience that would vaguely be related. Instead, she would offer words of encouragement and give herself time to really process the information without coming to conclusions. 

<><><><><><><><>

“She sounds like one of a kind, Andy. I think you are truly fucked.” 

It had been two pints later and she finally said something. I was nursing the beginning of my third pint and I just received fish and chips. After getting all of what I needed to tell Karen off my chest, I realized how hungry I was and how little I had eaten in the past few days. Half of my plate was gone in the span of six minutes. 

Over the next hour or so, we mainly sat in silence. Karen would ask an occasional question about her. Have I tried searching the internet? Would I consider enlisting in the help of my fans to search? I would answer and then silence would once again follow. 

I admired how she wouldn’t mind the silence. I didn’t either. It ultimately gave us time to think through and process our conversation. If a thought came to us, we’d discuss it; sometimes to great length, other times we discussed the point and left it at that. 

<><><><><><><><>

I was nursing my last pint of the night at a quarter past eleven. The longer I took, the less I wanted to finish as the dark stout grew warm and thick. 

Karen gave me some lyrics to look over for feedback and I noticed our bartender greeting someone else behind the counter. 

I took my eyes from the words in front of myself and glanced up to see who arrived.

The shock that tore through my body may have caused me to shat myself. 

“Jesus christ.” I muttered, and Karen overheard me. 

“Geez Andrew, I thought my lyrics needed work but I didn’t think they were  _ that _ shit.” 

“No, Karrie. It’s ehm, Linden, the girl from the concert.” I choked on my own words as I felt anxiety clutch my throat. 

“No way. You’re shitting me, Andy.” Karrie sharply whispered as her eyes darted straight at Linden, inspecting her from head to toe. 

“I wish I were. I don’t know what to do.” I replied. 

“You leave that to me.” 

Typically when Karen says that, there’s always something bound to happen that I don’t like. Mainly because she solves her problems with facing them head on, and I like to circle around my problems and poke them with a stick to make sure they won’t jump out and bite me in the arse. 

She leaned towards me and muttered, “If I leave, I’ll be waiting in the car.” 

“Karrie, please just tell me what you’re doing. I don’t want to make myself look like a ludder.” 

“You’ll be fine, Andy, I promise. You’ll thank me later too.” She put her hand up in the air and waved Linden over. 

As soon as she noticed Karen, she looked over to me and we locked eyes. She instantly became stone. Her face was solemn and her eyes unmoving. I don’t even think she was breathing; I know I wasn't. 

All these days of writer's block and agony left my mind, as I transfixed on her face. 

It was a face that felt so familiar, so nostalgic; and yet I hardly knew her. However, the only thing I knew for certain, was that I needed to meet her again, properly. Not surrounded by fans, or pressured by time. 

But how? 

_ Shit... _

She began to approach us and my mind raced with things I could say to her. They all tangled and knotted and my mouth became dry and my tongue fell mute. 

_ Shit…  _

She said something to me first but whatever was said fell on deaf ears. I only heard muffled words and the deafening beating of my own heart. 

_ Shit…  _

Karen said something to Linden in reply and I still couldn’t understand. 

What was happening? 

I watched Linden smile kindly and turn away. 

_ Fuck!  _

“Wh-w-where is she going?” I fumbled about to Karen. 

“Relax, Romeo. She’s refreshing our pints...” she surveyed my face, “Jesus, are you alright, Andy? I know it’s Linden, but fuck’s sake you look like shit- worse than before you saw her.” 

She placed the back of her hand on my forehead. 

“I’m fine. I just need some air real quick. Watch my pint, please?” I stood. 

“Ok.” 

As I pushed the door open, the cool air made my eyes water and I could feel the tip of my nose begin to chill. The street in front of me was quiet and glistening with street lights reflecting off of the rain soaked pavement. 

I took a minute to gather myself and regulate my breathing. The cold air was doing wonders for clearing my head. It could have also been the pints kicking in as well. 

I watched the man I paid to feed earlier that evening stumble down the road into an alleyway. In that moment I reassured myself that I did the best I could. 

Feeling more like myself than I had in weeks, I turned back to go inside. 

As soon as I opened the door my eyes locked onto Linden’s. 

_ What are the fucking odds.  _

As I took my seat I realized Karen left and paid. Linden told me something came up and had to leave. 

_ That’s a load of shite if I’ve ever heard it.  _

My pocket buzzed. 

_ Karen: I thought I’d leave you two alone to catch up. Let me know when you’re done. I’m waiting in the car. NO RUSH. _

_ Me: Gee, thanks. How thoughtful of you… I’ll keep you posted.  _

As I awkwardly sat in my seat in front of the now watching and no longer elusive Linden, I couldn’t help but revert to my introverted self and think,  _ this stout will have to go down a lot quicker.  _


	11. Creased Envelope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Linden's perspective. 
> 
> Andrew and Linden meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures. I want to briefly thank you for your support. These past few months have not been easy and I just want to say thanks for sticking around. 
> 
> Much love, stay safe, and Happy Holidays!

Of all the pubs that existed in a twenty mile radius from Dublin, this was the bar that Andrew just so happened to show up at? 

I had just made peace with the fact that I wouldn’t ever see him again and yet, there I was feeling just as pale and ghostly as Andrew looked when I went to refresh his pint. 

When I turned around to place the stouts back onto the table, I saw the door shut behind him stepping outside. 

Apparently my disappointed confusion was visible to his… lady friend. She patted my hand and said he would return.

I assumed she knew who I was considering her tone of voice and the way she looked at me, but she never mentioned her knowledge to me. 

Once she saw that Andrew was about to head inside, she laid out enough money to cover the Guiness, his meal, and a tip. She then said to me, “When Andrew comes back in, tell him something came up and I had to leave.” 

“Wh- okay. I’ll be sure to tell him.” I stammered. 

She exited out the side of the pub just as Andrew entered the front door. 

His eyes met mine and I could tell he regained his feeling of normalcy. As he got closer, he noticed his friend disappeared and a confused expression bled onto his face. 

“She said something came up and she had to leave,” I shrugged. 

“Oh, ehm… okay.” he murmured. As he took his seat his phone went off and he frowned at the message. His response was swift and the phone returned to his pocket. 

“Is everything all right?” I inquired. 

“Ehm, fine, thanks.” 

We both knew it was a load of shit. 

Silence fell upon us as he sipped his Guinness and I served a guest on the other side of the bar seating. 

I took time to admire him when he wasn't watching me. I loved the curl that rested on his forehead because it was too short to put in his ponytail. I also thought he looked better in glasses than contacts. He would rotate the pint with his hands often as he got lost in thought.

I could tell he was trying to figure out what to say to me. At times I would glance over and would catch his eyes, only for his gaze to divert. I was having the same problem with figuring out what to say. I never know what to say because I’m always scared that I’ll fuck it up by saying something dumb. Introverts are the worst at making conversation and that’s why we need extroverted friends to be an interpreter so we can make introvert friends. 

But I have no extrovert friend with me, and it looked like his extrovert companion deserted him, which leaves one of us to begin the conversation. 

_Just suck it up and say something. It can’t be too bad, just be honest._

I made my way over and his gaze lifted to meet my eyes. The counter separated us to a three foot distance and I was slightly elevated from where he sat. 

“So,” I began, “what are the odds, kind sir,” I said. 

_Kind sir? What the fuck is wrong with me?_

I began to relax as I saw his face soften and his eyes beam. A sheepish grin crept over his face and it was contagious. 

_Nice job._

“You have no idea how _fortuitous_ this meeting is.” He chuckled and I followed suit. 

I loved his smile. The way his lips revealed his long teeth; slightly crooked but straighter than a lot of peoples’. The way his eyes crinkled at the edges made his eyes gleam and refract gentleness.

It was so good to hear his voice again in person. His tone was smooth and rich like honey, but it tore through my chest leaving me bare and fickle. 

I extended my hand out to him to reintroduce myself, “I’m-”

“Linden,” he interjected and his hand clasped mine in a firm but delicate manner, “how could I forget?” he winked. 

My stomach flipped. 

_He remembered._

“In fact...” he held his finger up and then pulled his wallet out of his jacket; inside was an envelope. My letter. 

“... I kept your letter hoping that someday I’d run into you and here we are.” 

He held the envelope underneath his nose and inhaled, letting his eyes flutter shut, then open with the exhale. He extended it out to me, “Smells like you,” he hummed. 

I could feel my breath hitch in my throat and a tingle between my legs. Alternately I felt a little embarrassed for now spraying my perfume on the letter. I could feel the back of my neck, ears, and cheeks glow red with warmth. 

“Sorry, was that a weird thing to do? I just thought it’d be awhile before you opened it and was hoping you’d remember me. It made sense in my head but sounds weird when I say it.” I said as I took the letter from his outreached hand. 

As I inspected it, it appeared to be worn. The envelope itself was folded an extra time, so it could fit in his wallet, but the crease was more prominent like he had looked at it multiple times only to return it to his wallet. When I took the letter out, my eyes scanned what I wrote and fell upon something new. He crossed out “ _A supporter who’s name is of no importance”_ and wrote, “ _Linden”._

My surprise must have been visible, because when I looked up, he was smiling at me. 

He took the letter back from my hands and gingerly placed it back in the envelope. 

“I don’t find it weird. If anything you made the letter smell nice,” he smelled the paper once again while never breaking his gaze on me, “And your name? Of course it’s important. You’re not a no one. I take pride in my supporters because of the way they impact my life and I theirs. But you,” he placed the card back in his wallet and closed it like a flip phone, “you, Linden, are different. You’re like no other supporter I’ve met.” 

“Uhm… thank you? I’m sorry I don’t really know what to say,” I blushed and messed with the cocktail napkins in front of me. 

“It’s okay.” he said quietly.

I looked up from my fiddling and our eyes met. His gaze was different this time. It was welcoming, cool, insinuating. 

I sheepishly grinned and looked back down.

<><><><><><><><>

Things were quiet for a while. I could hear the chatter of the few people who were still here from a late dinner. Some new people arrived looking to either get shitfaced or socialize after a long day of work. But Andrew just sat there, working on his Guinness and watching people as intently as me. 

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. I tended to some customers here and there and I’d occasionally meet gazes with him. I’d go to the back of the pub to grab supplies or take dishes and when I came back up, he’d just be sitting there intently. Not on his phone, or anything. Just sitting there deep in thought. 

<><><><><><><><>

An hour passed from when I clocked in and Andrew finished the last of his pint. 

I walked up to take the empty glass from him. 

“Jesus that took you long enough.” I said sarcastically. 

“Well, if you must know, it was my fourth.” he raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry did you say you’re a lightweight?” I leaned closer to him over the bar. 

“Ehm… no… I think what I said was that… I took awhile on this last one so I could stay around you a little longer,” his voice was hushed and he was so close to me that I could smell the Guiness from his breath. 

I moved closer so there was about eighteen inches between us and whispered, “Good answer.”

His eyelids appeared heavy and his mouth parted slightly. 

I pulled away and watched his eyes widen at the effect Guiness had on his personal space bubble. I giggled under my breath and poured him a whiskey. 

“Why don’t you stay just a second longer then.” I winked. 

He picked up the glass, inspected it and smelled it. His eyes shot up at me. 

“How did you know Midleton is my favorite?” he asked. 

“You said so at the concert. Besides it’s kind of my job to know, since you’re a regular here.” 

“I’m not a regular.” 

“But I sense you will be,” I pointed to the glass, “Drink up, it’s on the house.”

  
  



	12. 20 Euro Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Andrew.
> 
> He devises a plan to meet her again in a slightly more private setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you beautiful creatures. I hope you are all doing well. 
> 
> Drink your water and get some sleep. 
> 
> Much love <3

She was like no other woman I’d met. She saw right through my excuses and it was like she knew my thoughts. 

The Midleton was an unexpected touch. 

_ Looks like I will be a regular here after all.  _

Goldsmith’s is quiet enough, nice selection of liquor, good food, and a beautiful bartender with an even prettier voice. 

I had to figure out how to see her again, outside of this place. I spent the whole time nursing my Guinness and Midelton to figure it out, and I still had no idea. 

I saw her walking over to me as I took the last sip. 

_ Here goes.  _

“You’re finished?” she asked. 

“Ehm, yeah. Thanks.” 

She took the glass from me and stood there. She knew I wanted to say something. 

“Listen, ehm. I gotta be honest with you.” I said. 

“Go for it.” 

“After the concert, I read your letter and tried to find any contact information on it. I respect that you didn’t leave any but that’s beside the point. I ran after you and saw you ride away in the bus, I tried looking for you on social media but I don’t know your last name.” 

“I see…” she interjected. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that…”  _ what the fuck do I say now? “- _ I’m having a dinner party next weekend... and I’d love for you to come-”  _ What dinner party you idiot?! “- _ It’ll be a smaller gathering-”  _ because no one’s invited to this non-existent party “ _ -and I’d love for you to join me… us, I mean.”  _ What did you get yourself into, Andrew.  _

She tilted her head to the side and her eyebrows drew together. 

_ She’s gonna call my bullshit and say no. Jesus Christ why’d you have to be so extreme you gobshite.  _

After a moment of agonizing anticipation, her frown finally softened into a smile. 

“That sounds fun. I’d love to come, but my free days are Tuesday and Wednesday” she said. 

“I’ll make arrangements to move it up, then.” 

“Wow, okay. Uhm… I’m looking forward to it.” she smiled. 

A wave of relief washed over me and then a new wave of dread sent a blow to my chest. How the hell was I going to organize a dinner party in less than a week all while juggling the responsibilities of a musician. 

I tried to keep my distress to a visible minimum so she wouldn’t lead onto my billshit. She was quite perceptive already and I didn’t want to take any chances. 

“That’s great!” I said with a beaming smile. 

I stood up, pulled out my wallet and placed a twenty on the bar, “For the Midleton.” 

“I said it was on the house, Andrew.” Linden argued. 

“Linden, you and I both know how expensive it is. I’d hate for you to get fired, especially if I’m a regular and want to see my favorite bartender around soon.” 

I pushed the note closer to her and she reluctantly took it. 

“So I’ll be seeing you around then?” she asked. 

“I suppose so.” I winked at her and turned around to leave. As I stepped outside I could feel my heart pounding with the thrill of actually asking to see a woman again. It had been a long time since I last saw someone. 

I approached Karen’s Range Rover and I heard my name being called from behind. 

It was Linden. 

“You forgot something.” She approached me. 

“What’s that?” 

“My phone number. You gotta contact me somehow about the “deets.” She took my hand and planted the piece of paper into it. 

“Thank you.” I said. 

“No, thank  _ you _ .” 

“Whatever for?” My eyebrows drew together.

“For uhm…” her eyes began to glisten like the wet streets from earlier that evening, “taking a chance on me, twice. It means more than words can explain. I also never would’ve thought my first friend here would be someone I admire more than anyone else as a person and artist.” 

_ Shit, what am I supposed to say to that?  _

I took her into my arms and held her tight. 

“Oh, Linden. I don’t even know what to say to that. I’m so thrilled to have met you and I can’t wait to get to know you more over this party.” 

“Me too.” she said. 

I placed my hand on her face and wiped a single tear from her cheek with my thumb. 

Her hand rose and met my cheek, bringing my face slightly closer to hers. Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed my cheek. 

“See you later, Andrew.”

“See you.” I watched her walk back to the door and waved as she turned around. Once the door shut, I climbed into Karen’s car. She was still working on her lyrics and was completely oblivious to what happened.

“So, Andy. How’d it go?” she asked. 

“I need help planning a dinner party within less than a week because I invited her to it but the party doesn’t exist.” I blurted and buried my face in my hands. I immediately looked down remembering I still had her number clutched in one of them. 

“Jesus, you really are fucked for her,” she scoffed. 

“I just need a yes or a no, Karrie.” I looked at her with tired eyes. 

“Of course, I’ll help you Andrew. Just say when and who and I’ll send out the invites.” 

“Thank you. You’re a god send.” I hugged her in her seat. 

<><><><><><><><>

It wasn't until I got home and in bed that I went to put Linden’s number in my phone. When I unfolded the paper, a 20€ note fell out.

My 20€ note. 

_ Fuck me.  _

I put her number in my phone and sent her a picture of me holding the note between my fingers.

_ Me: Don’t think for a second this is over. I’m paying for the Midleton whether you like it or not.  _

Ten minutes passed by and my phone buzzed. 

_ Her: You just keep telling yourself that. Goodnight, Mr. Lightweight.  _ **_;_ ** _ P _

  
  



	13. Dirty Dishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Linden. 
> 
> Linden goes to the long awaited dinner party and gets a chance to be closer to Andrew. 
> 
> Chapter notes are at the END this time.

Over the weekend I texted my sister, telling her what happened, and sending her the picture Andrew sent me to prove that it actually happened. She was more over the moon than I was. 

Andrews and I texted off and on: him confirming which day would work best for me, if I had any food allergies, if I would take an Uber to his place or if he should pick me up, how formal/casual I should dress, etc. 

It made me feel like I was the only one in attendance. Believe me I wished that were the case. 

<><><><><><><><>

As the days passed during work, I often caught myself looking around the room and at the doors in hopes that Andrew would meet my gaze, but to no avail.

I reminded myself that he was a musician, which often meant locking himself away until he cranks out lyrics to his liking. It only quieted my wishes minimally. 

Karen came in on Monday night with another man. I didn’t serve her, but from what it looked like, she was pretty fond of him. That made me feel more sure about her relationship with Andrew being more friendly than fond. 

She approached me before she left. 

“Will I be seeing you tomorrow at Andrew’s dinner party?” 

“You will. I’m looking forward to it.” I offered a warm smile. 

“Me too!” she squealed in return. 

As she walked away with the man, I overheard him asking how I knew Andrew. I could tell by the glances they shared, Karen knew of the “moment” Andrew and I shared on stage. 

It made me smile to think about it again. 

<><><><><><><><>

The next day couldn’t have come faster. I worked the entire day before, climbing into bed at two in the morning- I got off at twelve but the bus took a bit- and I still had to shower. 

I woke up at eleven, ate breakfast, had tea, read a bit, and picked out my clothes for the evening by one o’clock in the afternoon. I took the bus to the market, picked out a red wine (Barbera) to take to the dinner, and got back to my flat by three. I planned to get an Uber by six. 

There was time to kill. 

Luckily, I was in a good place with my book, so I snuggled into bed with a cup of tea and read until five. 

Finally, the time came for me to get ready. I washed my hair (skipped that part the night before), styled it half up/half down, applied just a small amount of makeup (Eyebrows, mascara, highlight and tinted chapstick), and got dressed. 

I wore a black spaghetti strap jumpsuit, a woolen military green sweater, and a pair of brown leather boots. It was simple but it felt casual/formal. 

Like clockwork, my Uber arrived and I polished off my final cup of tea. 

As I climbed into the car, I told them the address and noticed my phone buzzing. 

It was Andrew. 

“ _ This is Linden.”  _ I answered. 

“ _ Hey, Linden. It’s Andrew. Just checking to see if you’re still planning to make it out this evening.”  _

It was smart of him to check. Sometimes I can be unpredictable with plans, especially involving social gatherings.

I was running on the late side of things. He told me to arrive anytime between five and six forty-five because dinner was at seven. 

I planned it so I didn’t have to awkwardly stand around in case I couldn’t find anyone of interest to talk to; Andrew was the host, so I suspected he would migrate amongst the guests. 

“ _ Andrew!”  _ I acted surprised to receive a call from him, “ _ I’m actually on my way right now. I should be there in ten minutes.”  _

_ “Sounds great. Shoot me a text when you arrive and I’ll meet you outside.”  _

_ “Will do.”  _ I said.

“ _ Okay, see you soon. Bye.”  _

_ “Bye.”  _ I ended the call and felt my anxiety churn my stomach. I assured myself that I didn’t hear too many voices in the background of the call and at least I’d be around him and Karen. However, the idea of new faces and unfamiliar territory always irked me. 

<><><><><><><><>

I tipped the driver five euro, and stood in Andrew’s drive. It was paved in gravel and had a small tree growing in the middle, making it like a round-about. 

I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.

After a few seconds passed and I made my way closer. When I reached the porch, the front door swung open with Andrew sporting a hand towel on his shoulder. 

“Linden! I’m so glad you could make it,” he closed the door behind him and approached me. 

“Thanks for having me,” I replied and held the bottle of wine out to him. He accepted it with one hand and placed the other over his chest. 

“Oh, thank you so much. You shouldn’t have.” he said as he wrapped his arms around me and pecked a kiss on my cheek. 

“Please, it’s the least I could do.” I said and awkwardly stood with him for a few seconds. 

He started, and reached for the door, “Please come in. Supper is almost ready.” 

I passed him as he held the door open, escorting me through while placing his hand on the small of my back, making me aware of the huge difference a few inches south would make. He took me into the living room where I saw the rest of the band and a couple new faces, who could have been significant others to some of them. 

Andrew introduced me and handed me a beer, “Everyone, this is Linden. Some of you have already met her, but for those of you who have not, we met at my latest concert. Please, make her feel welcome.” 

I waved to the small crowd and was peppered with a few greetings. 

Andrew turned to me, placed his hand on my shoulder, and said something in my ear low enough so only I could hear him, “Are you comfortable if I leave you with them? I have to tend to dinner.” 

I nodded to him. 

“Okay, good. If you’re not, don’t be shy to join me in the kitchen. I wouldn’t mind the company,” he winked. 

As he left, his hand slid down my arm and grazed my fingers. 

I gravitated towards Rachel and Suzanne, seeing as they came from America as well. Our conversations were light, consisting of stories back home and what brought us over to Ireland. 

It wasn't long before Andrew stood before us again. 

He clapped his hands together once and announced dinner was served. 

As we walked over to the kitchen table, I saw that it was set neatly with serviettes, fine dinnerware, and a few options of wine; mine being among them. Each plate had a name written beautifully on a piece of paper and we quickly found our seats. The aroma of the food reminded me of how little I ate that day, as it pillaged my senses and woke my sleeping stomach. 

As I looked around the table, it soon became clear who accompanied whom, as they sat beside each other and conversed in a different manner. 

My name tag was right beside Andrew’s. 

_ That cheeky bastard.  _

<><><><><><><><>

The dinner was spectacular. It was an Italian dish that paired nicely with the salads, wines, and company. 

It was a surreal experience being around Andrew and the crew on a different basis than concerts. He was more carefree and open. His laugh was especially charming and contagious. It was captivating, the way it sounded like a song; pure and melodic. There was no rasp, or wheeze, just smooth delightful staccato. 

He was sure to include me in conversation, or solely ask me questions. I didn’t feel out of place for a moment. 

After the meal, he stood to gather our plates, and I joined him. He argued that I stay seated but I insisted that I helped. He worked so hard to prepare the dinner and he should not have to clean up by himself. 

I tried not to look around the table too much after I caught Suzanne and Karen sharing glances that I assumed were about Andrew and I. 

<><><><><><><><>

Dessert was warmed apple crumble with vanilla ice cream. 

Afterwards, he and I took one last trip to the kitchen and piled the dishes into his large split-basin sink. 

A game of pictionary followed and I won on Alex’s team; Andrew was on Rory’s. The winning picture was Lord of The Rings. 

More socializing ensued after the game.

It was getting late, around ten, when people were nearly sober enough to drive. I, on the other hand, could feel my social battery sink from 75% to 25% within a matter of minutes. 

The conversations varied from touring memories, to personal lives, to future band stuff.

I began to feel sensory overload take over, so I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I didn’t have to relieve myself but the quiet was nice. I’ve realized over time that I’m easily prone to sensory overload when I feel drained, regardless if it’s a loud or calm environment. 

This bathroom was nice. It was modern with a nautical feel to it. The walls were the color of pale sand, and the floors were tiled with small white hexagons. There was no shower or tub, but the sink was fitted into a corner, supported by a cabinet painted dark blue. 

After sitting there for a few moments, I made a beeline to the kitchen, hoping no one heard or saw me. I took my sweater off and started to clean the kitchen. 

I checked the dishwasher- fortunately empty- so I began to load it. Once I found the dish detergent, I also spotted the liquid soap, and started on the hand wash dishes. 

Growing up in a big family, I hated doing the dishes, unless there was a family gathering. The first place I could be found was the kitchen. It was quiet there, I didn’t have to socialize, and I could retire to my room earlier because I already completed a chore for the night.

At other people’s houses, I loved doing the dishes, because I feel useful in some way. It was a way of showing my appreciation. 

I soon lost myself in the methodical motions of scrubbing dishes, humming a tune from a Mumford and Sons song. I was completely oblivious to the tall creature observing me from the hall. 

Andrew slowly crept into my peripheral vision and greeted me softly, “Hey.” 

I was slightly startled but not enough to show. 

“Hey,” I replied and noticed the quizzical expression on his face, “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind. I just got a little overwhelmed and excused myself. Doing the dishes is something I find myself escaping to.” 

He looked concerned and remorseful as he leaned up against the counter beside me. 

“Shit. Linden, I’m so sorry I should’ve been more aware. But you really don’t have to do the dishes. I was going to do them later after everyone left. You’re my guest and you should be relaxing.” 

“It’s fine, Andrew, really. It’s just that my social battery drained faster than I expected. And I really don’t mind doing the dishes. I like it.” I dipped a sauce pan into the right side of the basin to rinse. 

“I just don’t feel right about it. It should be me.” he said, placing his hand gently on my arm. 

I met his gaze with my deliberate eyes and assured him, “Andrew, please. I  _ want _ to. It grounds me.”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodded and walked to the opposite side of the kitchen. He returned wearing an apron and held another in his hand. 

“The least I could do is help. I already feel awful for finding you  _ after _ the dishwasher was loaded.” 

I looked at him with amusement in my eyes as he looked like a dog begging for scraps. 

“Well… I suppose I can’t refuse you assisting me. It’s your own kitchen, to be fair.” I grinned and I watched his face light up. 

“Here,” he said as he walked closer to me, extending the apron, “Put this on. I don’t want your clothes to get dirty…” he frowned after noticed my soapy hands and forearms. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll help you with it.” he said as he moved to stand behind me. 

“Oh, thanks.” I sheepishly said, knowing what would happen in the next few moments.

I put my arms on the edge of the sink to give him space to put the apron on. 

I saw the apron fly over my head and fall down in front of me. He gently sweeped my hair onto my shoulder and his fingers grazed my neck as he tied the strings around it. The fabric was heather grey and it sent ripples down my skin as it too, grazed my neck. The ripples were only intensified as Andrew spoke casually behind me, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but you look amazing tonight. I like your sense of style.”

“Thank you.” I murmured, wondering how long it takes to tie a bow at the neck. I didn’t mind it, but I was sure Andrew might have minded my impending reaction to his closeness. I was already forgetting how to breathe. 

After he tied the bow, his hands rested on my shoulders for a split second as he looked for the ties to go around my waist. 

The apron was folded inward, which meant his hands had to wander my midriff to find the ties. 

My cheeks became red as anticipation burned through my body. I could sense him leaning over me to reach around. 

His chest lightly brushed my shoulders and his head came closer to my face, making his long hair brush against my neck and his breath tickle my ear. Chills ran from the nape of my neck to my calves. My heart was racing and my grip on the counter tightened while focused on taking normal breaths. I could smell the cologne he was wearing; the same one he wore the night of the concert. 

_ What a coincidence…  _

It took all of my might not to look back at him, in fear that his face might be inches from mine. 

“Excuse me.” he mumbled into my ear as his arms wrapped around my waist, grazing just above my navel and around to the small of my back. This time he didn’t take any time tying that bow. When he finished he placed his hand between my shoulder blades and gave a pat. 

“Thanks.” I said, trying not to make eye contact, knowing my face was bright as a stop sign. 

He cleared his throat as he pulled his hair up in a ponytail and spoke clearly in a quieter tone, “It’s my pleasure.” 

He took the dish out of the rinsing water and dried it with a hand towel. 

I took a moment to observe his outfit. He wore a navy blue button-up shirt with the front tucked into his black jeans. The bottom of the trousers fell just above the tops of his brown boots. 

He noticed my lingering eyes and glanced over at me. I was too slow to divert my gaze. 

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” I commented, then followed with, “Your outfit, I mean,” after I saw the confused expression on his face. 

“Oh, thanks.” he said as he took a rinsed dish from my hand to dry and put away. 

<><><><><><><><>

There wasn't much said between us. There didn’t need to be. 

Just shared glances at moments, or maybe a random question here and there. I asked him how he learned to cook so well. He said he learned from his mother.

Occasionally someone from the party would say goodbye to him and he would hug them goodbye, thanking them for being his guest. 

By the time we were done in the kitchen, Karen was the last to leave. Andrew excused himself and walked her to the door while I drained the sinks and dried my hands. 

When he returned to the kitchen, it was clear he had something on his mind he wanted to say to me. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures. 
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and healthy. I was thinking of having you all follow my art account on Instagram for updates on me posting here. I always feel bad for making you all wait and not having any sense of when the next chapter would be. 
> 
> So if you are interested let me know in the comments and I'll put in my Instagram handle and additional information. 
> 
> Much love to you all <3


	14. Two Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Andrew
> 
> Andrew tries to muster up the courage to ask Linden to stay awhile longer. 
> 
> NOTES AT THE END

The only person remaining in my house was Linden. 

I enjoyed the little time I spent with her, but I did not want it to end so soon. I wanted to get to know her without worrying about entertaining others. 

I wanted her to stay, but how the hell would I ask? 

I lingered near the entrance of the kitchen a little longer than I intended.

“Thanks again for helping with the dishes,” I said as I approached her. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for letting me help,” she handed me her apron. 

After returning them to their place, ideas of how to ask her were completely absent. But it seemed as if she wanted to say something. The silence that filled the room left me uneasy. 

_ Just flippin’ say something.  _

“How are you feeling now? Hopefully not too burnt out.”

“I’m feeling much better,” she smiled. 

Another silence. 

“Would you like to meet my dog?” I blurted. 

_ What the fuck was that?  _

I began to beat myself up. I needed to learn to get to the fuckin point. 

To my surprise, Linden’s face lit up and she gasped, “You have a dog! That’s just what I need right now!” 

My heart rate began to lower while leading her to my laundry room. 

When I opened the door we were greeted by a happy dog curled up in his bed. 

“This is Elwood.” I crouched down to pet his head and waved Linden in, as she sheepishly stood in the doorway. 

“It’s ok, Linden. He doesn’t bite.” 

She smiled and knelt down beside me. She let him sniff her hand and giggle when he licked it. 

“Hey Elwood,” she cooed as she scratched him in the magic spot behind his ear, making his head tilt into her hand. 

I walked across the room and opened the door to let Elwood roam in the back garden. 

When Linden stood back up, she was right beneath my chin. I could smell her perfume, sweet and welcoming. She took a step back after realizing her closeness to me. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“No need,” I replied. “Would you like to stay a little longer for some tea?” My voice was nearly a whisper at that point. 

When her face remained expressionless, I decided to provide an explanation, “I realize inviting you to dinner was an attempt to get to know you better, but I seemed to be busier than expected. If you don’t feel up to it, that is perfectly understandable. I myself, can feel exhausted at the end of things like this.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more nervous for a reply in my life. She took what felt like an eternity to think it over, but it probably only lasted for several seconds until she spoke. 

“On any other occasion, I would want to go home. But tonight feels different for some reason. Also I don’t have to work tomorrow so nothing is rushed.” Her smile was contagious and I could hardly contain the joy inside of me. 

“Right, well why don’t you take a seat in the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on. Do you drink tea?” I asked. 

“Like a fish.” 

I followed her into the kitchen to put the electric kettle on then excused myself to retrieve a vinyl from the living room. 

When I returned to the kitchen, Linden was reading through the collection of recipes from a small cherrywood box in front of her. 

I walked straight past her and to the record player. With a glance in her direction I could tell I startled her. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been told I have quiet footsteps.” 

“It’s okay. I do too. I must apologize, the little box in front of me was so pretty and I wanted to know what was inside. These recipes look absolutely fantastic!” she said. 

“Oh please, I look through as many as you’d like. It also seems your clothes are not the only thing you have impeccable taste in. Maybe I’ll have to cook for you another time.” I filled the mugs with boiling water and placed them on the table. When I met her eyes they were beaming, but her face gave another message. 

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to go through all of that trouble for me. I can’t imagine how busy your schedule is.” She took the mug and wrapped her hands around it. 

I placed multiple types of tea on the table: Earl Grey, Irish Breakfast, Herbal. She went straight for the Earl Grey. 

_ She’s too sweet. It’s giving me a toothache.  _

_ “ _ Well, think of it this way,” I started as I placed two Irish Breakfast bags in my mug, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.” I pushed the recipe box toward her and told her to pick one. She flashed a reluctant gaze but began to finger through the cards. 

She picked one, handed it to me and I smiled; seafood chowder, one of my favorites. 

I pinned it up on my fridge and told her we would figure out a day, but there were more pressing matters at hand. 

I invited her to tell me more about herself and what it was like in Oregon. 

From my perspective, her decision to move was one that took great strength and courage. I understood when she said she felt trapped when faced with a decision that she didn’t want to go through with for the rest of her life. She was right to start again. 

But the way she described her city- and even state- was amazing. It was almost as if I could see what she was describing. She also had strong ties to the coast and just nature in general. It sounded like such a beautiful place. One I hoped to visit someday. Perhaps with someone to guide me. Someone like her. 

When she finished her tales about Oregon, we were nearly through our second cup of tea. 

I was about to pour her a third cup when she placed her hand over her cup. I was afraid she would say she was ready to leave. It had been around an hour when we first started, but I wasn't ready for it to be over. 

“Do you have anything stronger?” she asked. 

My body flooded with relief and I couldn’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll meet you in the living room.” I said. 

We parted ways as she entered the living room and I ventured into the dining room.

“What are we feeling like, Linden?” I called to her, “I have some whiskey, bourbon, rum,-”

“Some good ol’ whiskey will do.” she called back. 

I grabbed it from the cabinet along with two glasses and made my way to the couch. I found her behind it looking at one of my many book cases. She was caressing the spine of a worn out Heany book. 

I set down the glasses on the coffee table and joined her. 

“That’s one of my favorites.” I said. 

“Favorite poet, or book.”

“Both. Although I do find it hard to pick favorites because I do love quite a few poets. I just know that Seamus is one I can choose without second guessing myself.” I plucked the book from the shelf and fingered through the pages, feeling the weathered paper on my fingertips and catching whiffs of its use and age. 

“Is it true you have Heaney’s last words tattooed on you?” Linden shyly asked. 

“Yes, it is,” I smiled, “would you like to see it?” 

She nodded and grinned like a kid who got to take a look at their birthday cake before their party. 

I unbuttoned and removed my navy blue shirt to reveal a grey t-shirt underneath. As I lifted up the sleeve on my left arm, her eyes became wide with wonder. 

She brushed her fingers against it ever so gently, as if it were fresh. It sent shivers down to my fingers. 

I told her that I had one of my friends do it with a stick’n’poke kit. 

“Don’t be afraid,” she hummed as she recited the tattoo which was written in latin. 

“You know latin?” I asked. 

“A very minimal amount.” 

As she inspected it, I let my eyes wander over some of her own tattoos. She had a dragonfly, hummingbird, and a bundle of mushrooms scattered on her right arm. A bracelet of wildflowers surrounded her left arm and grew up towards her elbow, and the Mumford and Sons’ wing logo was across her bicep. 

I dropped my sleeve and invited Linden to take a seat on the couch as I excused myself to my room to grab a jumper. 

When I returned to the living room, Linden had her boots set niceley on the floor and her legs were tucked underneath her body. 

“You look cozy,” she said. 

“So do you,” I replied and looked at her bare arms. I offered her a sweater or a blanket, to which she accepted a blanket. 

I dashed to my room once more and retrieved the one at the foot of my bed. It was a very soft, dark green, knitted afghan. 

She accepted it and wrapped it around her shoulders. 

As I poured our first glass of whiskey, I smiled to myself, knowing the blanket would smell like her afterwards. 

<><><><><><><><>

It was the second glass in and we had talked about random things. Mostly about where Linden hopes to travel. She wanted to see Belfast, London, Manchester and other touristy places. But one thing she said that struck me to the core is that she wanted to see the places even locals hardly go to. The untouched territory; the areas that feel secret. 

I could see the adventure in her eyes and I wanted to take part in it. 

“I’ll take you around. Show you my favorite spots,” I blurted. 

“Are you sure? Will you have time?” 

“I’ll make time. I would love nothing more than to show you. But I have one condition.” 

I cringed as I heard the words escape my mouth. I knew what I was about to propose was insane and she wouldn’t do it. I had just ruined the chances of me spending more time with her because the whiskey along with tonight’s wine and beers began to talk for me. 

“What might that condition be?” she crooned. 

Before I could stop myself the words escaped my mouth, “Come for a swim in the ocean with me.” 

I could see her mind process my words. She must have been wondering why I was proposing a swim in December. 

“A swim sounds lovely. I’m assuming you mean something along the lines of a polar plunge, right?” she said. 

“Ehm… yeah. I realize it’s kind of a weird condition so I don’t want to pressure you. Maybe just tag along, but I don’t want to make you swim if you don’t want to.”

“Not weird at all. You’ve got yourself a deal. You take me around and we go for a swim,” she smiled and held out her hand to make it final. 

As I shook her hand I realized just how adventurous she was. Did I know what I was getting myself into?

“Although, I should tell you,” she sighed, “I’m going home for Christmas.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Your family must be so excited!” I tried my best to hide my unexpected disappointment, “I’ll be sure to take you somewhere before you head back so you can tell your family.” 

“Oh, they actually don’t know. It’s a surprise,” she smiled and changed the subject,” “But what about the swim? Should we go before or after I leave?”

“Before.” I winked and finished off my second glass. 

When I poured myself another, Linden held hers out also. 

I could feel the whiskey taking effect and I didn’t doubt it was having it’s way with Linden. 

Just then she checked her phone. 

“Fuck, it’s 2 o’clock already! Should I call an Uber?” she asked. 

“Ehm… don’t worry about an Uber. You can just take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

_ My tendency for blurting things tonight is really doing me in. Jesus fuck.  _

“I couldn’t possibly, Andrew. I feel ba-” 

“-Sh-sh-sh-sh. Listen,” I leaned towards her and placed my finger over her warm, soft lips,” I would want the same thing for me if I were in your position. I’m not forcing you to stay because you have every right to refuse, but… please just know you are not an inconvenience and I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn't ok with it. Alright?” I removed my finger and noticed how perfect her nose was. 

I could feel the alcohol reddening my nose and cheeks. Although I was intoxicated, I meant every word. 

“Alright,” she whispered dazily, “Thanks. I would appreciate it if I could stay the night.” 

“Mi casa es tu casa,” I fumbled. 

“Cheers to that,” Linden slurred and polished off her glass, only to extend it out to me for more. 

“Christ, Linden. You didn’t tell me you drank whiskey like a fish, too,” I chuckled. 

“It’s my last one I promise.” She held her glass as if it were a mug warming her hands. Something about the way she looked wrapped up in my blanket and sipped her whiskey, smiling to herself, made me smile. Logically, she was a complete stranger. But to me, she was so familiar like I’d known her many years ago. 

<><><><><><><><>

Our conversations carried on for another hour until we could hardly keep our eyes open. I was sitting with my back up against the arm of the sectional and my legs outstretched. Linden sat near my feet with her legs still curled underneath her as she supported her head with her hand propped up on the back of the couch. 

“If I don’t ask you how to get to the room, I’m afraid we’ll both end up sleeping on the couch, Andrew,” she yawned. Her words were slow and deliberate. She was a very sophisticated drunk. 

“You’re quite right, my dear. Follow me.” 

I stood up with more difficulty than I anticipated and the room began to spin. 

“Jesus christ.” I put my hand over my eyes and steadied myself with the other hand on the arm of the couch. 

Before the room stopped spinning I could feel Linden’s arms wrap around mine in support. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to take your own bed? Your couch will suffice for me,” she asked. 

“You’re my guest, Linden. You will receive the best care I can provide, ok?” 

“Ok.” She giggled at the way I spoke. I felt like a six year old trying to have an argument with their parent. 

I led her to the end of the hall where my bedroom stood before us. I stopped at the doorway and let her look around. 

“My bathroom is in here,” I pointed to the right, “feel free to use anything you like.” I watched her look around the room.

“Oh! Almost forgot,” I walked over to my dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt and joggers, and placed them on the bed, “Here’s a change of clothes. I don’t expect you to sleep in that, although it does look comfortable.” I pointed to her black jumpsuit. 

“Thank you for all of this.” she shuffled over to me and hugged me with her arms around my waist and her head resting on my chest. 

I wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek on her head. 

“You’re more than welcome, Linden,” I whispered and swayed enough to slightly lose my balance. 

“I should go to sleep,” I said and clumsily pointed at the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, “Can I steal that from you?” 

“Of course. It’s yours afterall.” She handed it to me and saluted me goodnight. 

I shuffled out of the room to the couch and collapsed already half asleep. Elwood was curled up in his bed on the floor beside me. 

As I pulled the blanket over me, Linden’s scent overwhelmed whatever was left of my senses and I drifted off into a deep and content sleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my lovelies! 
> 
> So sorry for the little hiatus. I've been working out some personal stuff. I've decided to provide my art Instagram for you to follow for regular updates on this piece!  
> If you decide to follow, shoot me a DM and let me know you're from this website, and I'll add you to a friends list to get exclusive updates and even Q and A's. 
> 
> Much love to you all and never forget that your mental health is one of the most important things to care for. 
> 
> Here's my insta: ashb_snow.art


	15. Morning After Pills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the perspective of Linden. 
> 
> Linden spends the night in Andrew's bed, and things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you beautiful creatures. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I've been hard at work with these following chapters and I'm extremely excited! 
> 
> If you want regular updates about this fic go and follow my Instagram account. Send me a DM and let me know you're from AO3 and I will add you to a close friends list. 
> 
> Instagram: ashb_snow.art
> 
> Much love to you and enjoy your weekend!

I couldn’t believe how big it was. 

The longer I looked the bigger it got. The architecture was gorgeous and it felt so warm and welcoming. 

His bedroom... of course. 

When Andrew took his leave, I crept across his oak hardwood floor and stood at another door. 

I grasped the handle and tried it; unlocked. 

As I slowly opened the door, cold air bit at my toes and face. It led to a quaint patio surrounded by potted plants and bushes. 

His dark stained mahogany wardrobe gave me nostalgic memories of reading The Chronicles of Narnia as a child. 

One of the walls was lined with some of his guitars. Two of them were his Takamine P3NY’s; both tuned to a different key. 

I made my way to the bed where I changed into the clothes he gave me. They were slightly big, which surprised me. He was so thin and I was… not. It must’ve been his height that made his clothes run big. 

I never would have expected him to be so accommodating and kind. We hardly knew each other and yet I felt like I was being treated as one of his closest friends. 

I went to the bathroom and looked around. This one was different from the other one. 

It was a dark and spacious design, lightened with accents of white marble and many green plants. 

To the right of the trough sink, a small black tray contained a toothbrush, floss, mouthwash, contacts, contact solution, and face wash. 

I selected the mouthwash and was mindful to pour some into my mouth without it touching my lips. 

As I swished the tingling liquid around in my mouth, I let my hands wander smoothly over the marble surface and admired the warm glow from the large backlit mirror on the wall in front of me. 

Upon examining my face, I realized I was still wearing makeup. 

Typically at that point in my night I would just sleep in it, but I didn’t want to risk soiling his pillow case. 

After I spit the mouthwash, I remembered a trick I learned and looked around for some lotion

At the end of the room, stood a grey wooden cabinet. On top a black, wicker basket on top, filled with rolled washcloths and towels. Beside it, a white, wooden tray contained a jar of Q-tips, an array of lotions, and the hair cream I gifted him; unused. 

_ Pity.  _

When I opened the drawer in the cabinet, I found several medicine bottles; among them were Tylenol and Ibuprofen. 

I grabbed some unscented lotion, a washcloth, and returned to the sink. I wet my face and applied the lotion to my eyelids and eyebrows, then used the washcloth to wipe off the makeup. 

I used some of Andrew’s face wash to get any leftover makeup off my face and followed it up with the same lotion for moisturizer. 

After putting everything back in its place and gingerly setting my used towels in a black wicker hamper under the counter, I looked around the magnificent bathroom once more and retired to bed. 

Upon inspecting his neatly made, king-size bed, I couldn’t tell which side he normally took but I noticed one nightstand had more items placed on the right side, so I took the left. 

I crawled under a couple layers of thick blankets. The innermost layer was an extremely soft, cream-colored blanket, and the top blanket was a beautiful bedspread. It was a tribal pattern with beautiful hues of deep red and orange. 

It reminded me of the changing leaves in Autumn. 

After I switched the lamp off, I let the warmth of my body radiate inside the bedsheets and Andrew’s scent became more prominent. Sweet like honey, but it contained a chilly musk, similar to fresh moss. 

It was absolutely intoxicating. 

I let my mind wander in thought as my body grew heavier by the minute. 

My thought process slipped into a state of incoherence and I acknowledged that sleep would soon be upon me. 

It took me like a wave crashing on shore. Swiftly and gracefully it engulfed me entirely, drawing me into its depths where even dreams did not inhabit. 

<><><><><><><><>

Morning came just as quick as the next wave.

It did not crash over me. Instead it creeped up the sand like smooth hands reaching for something, only to retreat for a moment and return. 

As the tide rolled in, so did my stream of consciousness. My senses slowly returned to me and my body became lighter. Except for one area. 

Something felt heavy around my waist, just below my ribs. I also noticed it was touching against my wrist. 

When I lifted my arm, I peered down at another arm that belonged to someone else. 

I could recognize those hands anywhere. 

A slow turn of my head confirmed it was Andrew sleeping next to me. 

_ What the fuck? _

I didn’t even notice him getting into his bed last night and I most certainly did not think his move was intentional. He didn’t seem like that kind of guy. 

Then again, I barely knew him. 

My clothes were still intact. I needed to get up.

_ What time was it? _

A brief look at my phone on the bedside table showed eight o’clock. 

I gingerly placed my hand over his wrist and waited for any movement or feedback that he felt it. I let my grip tighten and eventually lifted his arm off of me and placed beside him. 

He did not stir. It was as if I wasn't even there. Good.

In every effort to keep him asleep I did things as quietly as humanly possible. 

I carefully slipped out of the covers and left the room. I used the guest bathroom and sat in the kitchen for a moment, deliberating what my next steps would be. 

If I left immediately, I’d have to go get my clothes back out of the room and risk waking him up. Then I’d have to explain to him why I was leaving and hope it didn’t come off as rude or ungrateful. 

If I stayed, I wouldn't know how much longer he would sleep. I didn’t know how I’d come off if he slept till noon and I hung around to wait for him to wake up?

Either way this was going to be awkward. 

_ Fuck, I’m so bad at awkward.  _

Burying my head in my hands, my eyes and brain felt a little sticky. I was in a fog that made me feel dazed.

I grabbed a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with cool water from the tap. 

Before I could take my first sip, I heard Andrew cough from the bedroom. It sounded like he was awake. 

I quietly creeped towards the bedroom, glass in hand, and peered into the doorway. 

He was sitting up in bed looking at his phone. One hand was placed over his mouth and supported his head. His eyebrows and forehead were crinkled in confusion and he didn’t even notice me standing in the doorway. 

“Good morning, Mr. Lightweight,” I said. 

“Jesus!” He jolted and clutched his chest. I couldn't help but giggle from his reaction, “Not quite.” I surveyed his face to get any sort of hint of what he was thinking. He just stared at me in wonderment. 

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I asked. 

“It’s coming back to me.” He murmured while running his fingers in his short beard. I watched his face go from confused to terrified. 

“I’m in my bed,” he said. 

“It appears so.”

“I’m supposed to be on the couch. I don’t even remember getting up and moving!” His face reflected such a tortured expression from his realization. 

He asked me if I could ever forgive him and I explained there was nothing to forgive. 

He got out of bed and immediately stopped. 

“Christ, my head.” He took his head in his hands and massaged his temples. He continued to the bathroom and reached for the pill bottles. He offered me some and I accepted two Advil. I drank from my glass and swallowed the pills. Seeing that he didn’t have a glass I offered mine to him. 

“Thanks,” he accepted. 

It was a quiet several seconds before any of us said anything. We awkwardly stood in the bathroom as I sipped from my glass and he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I really am sorry about ending up in my bed, I don’t even know what to say.” Andrew broke the silence. 

“I told you, it’s really no big deal.” It really wasn't a big deal. I kind of even liked it. I  _ really _ liked it. 

_ He doesn’t need to know that.  _

He offered to make me breakfast and tea.

After all the time we spent together in the span of 24 hours I should have made up some lame excuse to get home and give him some space. But I just couldn’t refuse, especially if he offered. I know better than to refuse his offers on a point of being an inconvenience. 

“I hope you like porridge.” He winked at me and filled a pot with water. 

I’d seen the type of oatmeal he makes on Instagram. I was in for a treat. 

<><><><><><><><>

“I saw the hair cream I gave you in your bathroom and couldn’t help but notice it hasn’t been used.” I took my last bite of oats, savoring the sweetness from the honey and tartness from the strawberries. 

Andrew took a sip of his tea and thought about his next words.

“To be honest I’m not sure how to use it. I’ve just gotten so used to a normal routine and it slips my mind every time.” 

“That’s okay. If you wouldn’t mind, I can teach you how to use it. It’s so much easier than you think.” I stirred my tea and avoided eye contact, hoping I wasn't being too forward. 

“I’d love that, actually. I was hoping to take a quick shower right after this. Do you think you could help me after?” He stood with his bowl, grabbed mine from in front of me and took them to the sink. 

“Absolutely, yeah. Just make sure your hair is wet before we put the product in.” I couldn’t believe I was going to help the one and only Hozier with his glorious hair care routine. 

He took one last gulp of his tea before rinsing out his mug to use for later. 

“Wonderful! I shouldn't be longer than fifteen minutes. Feel free to help yourself to any reading, music or TV.” He left the room only to reappear in seconds, “I’m such a fuckin’’ idiot. I haven’t even asked if you were in any need of a shower or a way to freshen up. I really am sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. 

“I’m fine. I’ll do all my freshening up when I get home. Please don’t beat yourself up about it. I haven’t had a sleepover in years. I’m sure you could say the same thing. This whole thing is unusual.” I tried my best to stifle a giggle but I had no luck. 

“Is this a disaster?” he asked with defeat in his voice. 

“Yes... but it’s also the most fun I’ve had in a while and there’s only you to thank for it.” My smile beamed and I could feel it from within my heart. 

Andrew clutched his chest and walked over to me. He took my hand in his and slowly raised it close to his mouth. In a low voice he said, “Thank you for being such a wonderful person to partake in disasters with. I’m excited for more to come.” He lightly pressed his lips to my hand without breaking eye contact and left for his shower. 

I was left sitting at the kitchen table with my hand still suspended in the air. 

After a moment passed, I gathered my thoughts and went for the living room with my tea. Elwood laid at my feet after I picked a Langston Huges collection from his shelf and immediately sat, looking for one of my favorite poems, “I, Too”. 

I read it over and reminisced of the first time I heard it.

It was my Junior year in high school and I took an Advanced American Literature class. I had never read something so profound in my entire life. Every time I read it since that day, there was always something new to interpret from that poem. 

I fingered through the pages and read until Andrew opened the bedroom door and called me to him. 

I placed the book back on the shelf behind the couch and joined him. 

To my secret disappointment, he was dressed. 

He wore a light grey t-shirt and dark blue denim jeans. His hair was still wet as instructed, and he held the hair product in both hands as if it were a delicate piece he was afraid to drop. 

I took the purple tube from his hands and asked him for another t-shirt. 

“What for?” he asked. 

“It’s to dry your hair. Normal towles cause frizz and damage to your hair, but microfiber cloths, or t-shirts are softer and more forgiving to your hair.” 

“I see.” He nodded and retrieved one from his wardrobe as well as a chair after I realized it would be easier to teach him at a functional level. 

He sat in front of the bathroom counter so he could watch me work with his hair. 

Inadvertently, I placed my hands on his broad shoulders and began to explain how I usually use the product. 

I took the t-shirt and scrunched the ends of his hair to get any excess water out. Then, I squeezed an amount of cream about the size of a 50 cent coin on my palm, and rubbed it between my hands. From there, I evenly smoothed the cream throughout his hair and scrunched the ends to get the rest of the product off my hands. I went back in with the t-shirt and scrunched until his hair was damp. 

“And now we let it air dry and the hair cream does its magic.” I rinsed off my hands in the sink and smiled back at him. 

“Thanks.” he stood and returned the chair back to his room. 

I sauntered out of the bathroom and sighed, “I think I should get going and call an Uber. I’ve got work tomorrow and I’m planning on sleeping the rest of today and tonight.” I really didn’t want an Uber, but I didn’t want to ask him for a ride. 

_ Please say you’ll take me.  _

“Nonsense. I’ll take you back.” he tossed his wet shirt into a hamper, “I’ll let you get dressed and we’ll head over.” 

_ Fuck… he reads minds.  _

<><><><><><><><>

“You ready? He looked up from his cup of tea at the kitchen table. A smile spread across his face as he looked me up and down like he hadn’t just seen my outfit the night before. 

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.” I leaned up against the entrance of the kitchen. 

“It’s no problem.” He stood and grabbed my sweater that was still draped over the chair across from him. Instead of handing it to me he held it out and helped me put it on. Not because I was incapable, but perhaps it was because he wanted the same thing as I; the brief feeling of electricity running through our bodies as fingers brushed against skin. Flesh gliding along flesh. 

_ Fuck me, it’s the apron all over again.  _

We both kept our composure, but my mind didn’t return to it’s comprehensive state until after I was escorted to his Land Rover. It was an older model; green, from the ‘90s.

The ride home was quiet. I didn’t mind, and I think he didn’t either. I wasn't really in the mood for conversation anyway, considering the night I had. I’m sure the feeling was mutual. 

He definitely knew his way around town and I was grateful for it. My eyelids grew heavier every minute. There was just something about being around him that made me feel like I had a security blanket. There was some unspoken understanding between us. Kindred spirits, I suppose. 

As we pulled into my drive, I thanked him and reached for the door. 

“Wait! I forgot to give you something before we left my house.” he tucked his now dry hair behind his ear and I took a moment to see how wonderful it turned out. It took everything in my power not to reach out and stroke his curls. I knew I hated it when people did that to my hair. 

“Can I have your phone?” he asked. 

“My phone? Why do you want it?” I hesitantly pulled my phone out of my jumpsuit pocket. 

“Just trust me.” His hand extended a bit closer to me. I unlocked my phone and slowly placed it into his hand. 

He navigated his way to my home screen, “Yours is the face that makes my body burn,” he murmured. My heart flew to my throat hearing him utter those words. I knew exactly what he was quoting, but the way he uttered them had an effect on me that I hope was not visible.

“That’s Mumford and Sons. I didn’t know you liked them too.” I smiled in disbelief. 

“Marcus and I are pretty well connected. And yeah, I do enjoy them quite a bit, but not as much as you appear to.” He held the phone out to me to reveal the collage of Mumford and Sons photos used as my wallpaper. 

“I suppose you can learn a lot about me from my wallpaper.” I took a deep breath in relief that I changed it recently. Last month it was a collage of Andrew. 

_ That could have been so fucking awkward.  _

He fiddled with my phone for a minute more and returned it to my hands. 

When I peered down at my screen, I saw that I had been added to Andrew’s Snapchat and Instagram spam account. 

“Welcome to the cool kids club,” he said with a funny lisp. It made me laugh at how ridiculous it sounded and his laugh joined. 

_ I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of his laugh.  _

“Well, thanks for the ride.” I reached for the door and opened it. As I got out of the car, I noticed Andrew was doing the same. 

He walked me to my door and waited patiently for me to fumble with my keys. Once I unlocked the door, I pushed it open slightly. 

“You showed me yours, so I'll show you mine?” I smirked. 

He laughed again, “Why not.” 

I led him into my small flat and kicked off my shoes but told him he didn’t have to take his off. His head was mere inches from the low ceiling. 

“This is my place.” I swung my arm out in the presentation. From where we stood my living room, kitchen and dining room were all visible. They were basically one room. 

“It’s a nice place,” he said with his hand stuffed into his back pockets. He meant it with all sincerity. 

“Thank you… for everything. Dinner, the bed, the ride. I really appreciate it.” 

“You're welcome. It’s no problem, really. I really enjoyed myself.” 

“Me too,” I smiled, “Well, I should let you go. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work to do and I’ve got plenty of sleep to have.”

I stepped towards him and he gathered me into his arms. The hug was so natural, no one had to ask or initiate it. For a split second I could hear his heartbeat. 

Slightly elevated. 

I opened the door and showed him out, waiting for him to start his car so I could wave goodbye and head back inside. 

The journey to my bed seemed to take an eternity. My legs felt heavy and my head felt so foggy. 

I took off my sweater and noticed something fall out of the pocket. 

I picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. 

Thanks for my beautiful hair, Linden. 

Andrew xx

Folded inside the paper was his 20€ note. 

_ Fuck me.  _

I pulled out my phone and opened up Snapchat to send him a picture of me holding the note. 

_ Me: You cheeky bastard. This isn’t over!  _

Twenty minutes passed. 

_ Him: Hahah. You just keep telling yourself that. Sleep well ;) _

I did sleep well. Another bout of dreamless slumber took me without hesitation. 

  
  



End file.
